Branches
by Dinasis
Summary: Consequence of Choice #3: Branches. A journey can take many courses to reach its conclusion. Each choice has consequences. Each solution is its own problem. Both past and present are necessary for the future. BMWW.
1. Concern

**Author's Note:** Into sequel territory at last. Please enjoy. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

I lean to my left, resting my chin on my thumb as I stroke below my lip with my forefinger. I reach out again towards my computer's keyboard, skipping through a few articles. "There's a connection here somewhere…"

Newspaper articles. Dozens of them. All pertaining to the past and present crimes of the instinct-driven animal known otherwise as Killer Croc.

Something catches my eye in one of the articles and I sit straighter in my chair, leaning forward and joining my left hand with my right at the keyboard. A notification sounds before I can get anywhere.

I turn around, looking expectantly towards the transporter pad tied into the Watchtower's systems. There's no need to pull my cowl up. I sit comfortably in the knowledge that only the League's founding members can access the Batcave with the transporters and that only two of them would ever come to the cave unannounced and uninvited.

The cave lights up for a few instants before I recognize the form of my guest. I'm not surprised who it is. The light from the transporter fades. I stand and turn, tipping my head forward almost imperceptibly as I straighten.

"What do you want, Princess?"

"And hello to you, too, Bruce." Amused sarcasm. I shouldn't be surprised, if ever there were someone who could brush off my standoffish attitude, it would be Diana. Of course Alfred would have no trouble either, but he has the advantage of understanding what forged Bruce Wayne into Batman.

"Something I can do for you?" A change in tactics. Hopefully I'll be able to get her out of the cave so I can get back to work quickly.

"Well, no." She pauses and, for a brief moment, the Princess of the Amazons looks unsure of herself. "Do I need a reason to visit a close friend?"

I can feel my jaw tightening. I know what she wants, it's obvious. _'Back to this again? I'm not in the mood for talking about relationships.'_ I can't keep my shoulders from sinking a little with my exasperation. "We've discussed this already, Diana." My tone comes off sounding a little more out of patience than I had intended.

I follow her gaze as it falls to the cave floor between us. I notice she's barely taken five steps from the transporter pad. I look up from her feet, notice that her shoulders have fallen as well. I raise my focus back to her face and see the forlornness set about her features.

"Yes. We've started many times," she admits with disappointment. She lifts her eyes back to meet mine. "But we've never once concluded it." Hope.

_'And I'm about to shatter it.'_ I feel a strange, uncomfortable weight to the thought. Regardless, I can't let myself grant her wish. I need to speak. "I have. You haven't."

She does well to hide the pain from her face, but it's still clear to me. I'm not sure if I see it because of my time reading people as Batman or if I'm paying attention because it's Diana. _'Time to drive the point home.'_ A dismissal without a dismissal. "I have work to do."

Her hands tighten into fists as I watch. Anger flashes across her face and I feel a more familiar personal regret, weight of the knowledge that being Batman means my own isolation. I suppress it quickly, my focus still locked on Diana's face.

Now she surprises me; the anger drops all at once from her expression. An unfamiliar neutrality replaces it. "Fine." Her voice is strangely monotonous, without emotion. "I'll let you get back to work." A hint of scorn in the last few words.

Diana turns, steps back to the transporter. She lifts her right hand to her ear. "Mr. Terrific, one for transport." The transporter begins to activate and a moment later, she is gone.

I let my expression soften before the judging silence of the cave. I stand still, but my mind races, analyzing Diana's expression. Her reaction. The fact that she never looked back, not even for a moment before she disappeared into the telltale envelope of light.

"Res…resignation?" I let myself ask aloud. I run with the idea for a moment and I soon realize: she is resigning herself of pursuing me. The muscles in my jaw loosen and my mouth opens. I turn enough to drop back into the chair. I swivel it back towards the Batcomputer to my right and my head falls forward.

"I did it. I finally did it."

I hear footsteps from the stairs. Alfred. It's nearly impossible that he would miss that. He probably heard the whole exchange, probably saw it, too.

_'I did it. I finally did it,'_ I repeat silently to myself, the words no less morose, no less distraught then when I had first spoken them aloud. I keep telling myself I should feel a sense of freedom, but all I feel is emptiness.

I close my eyes to blink, but stop halfway, for a long while not bothering to open them again. I finally do when I hear Alfred's footsteps come to a stop a few feet from me.

It doesn't matter what he will tell me, how he might berate me. I had pushed Diana once too many times. My indomitable will, my stubbornness, had finally broken her indomitable spirit. _'What…was her indomitable spirit…'_

I lift myself from my chair, leaving the functional but comfortable seat to head for the gym. Alfred follows. He won't let me walk away, not from this, not from him. _'I knew he wouldn't let me put this behind myself so easily.'_

I'm sure I've disappointed him. I've certainly disappointed Diana. Now it's clear that she won't be willing to try again. How many more times will Alfred let me disappoint him? Am I even now testing his limits?

_'I don't know how I'd continue the mission without Alfred, with Dick away in B__lüdhaven.__ I can't rely on Tim and Barbara as Robin and Batgirl and expect to have __someone I trust care for the manor.'_

Thoughts of Wayne Manor falling apart from neglect hurt, but the idea of Alfred leaving easily overshadows that pain. Even so, I know I've endured worse. No, that's a lie. I'm _trying_ to endure worse. The specter of a greater pain lingers over me, even as I distract myself with what could become of the manor.

_'Diana is gone, she will never let herself be anyone but Wonder Woman to me now.'_ The emptiness in my heart from the idea is crushing. I need an outlet.

The gym's lights turn on automatically as I step inside. I turn with purpose towards a heavy punching bag hanging near the far wall, suspended by chains in the exact center between the floor and ceiling.

"Master Bruce."

I hesitate for a moment, my left foot moments from landing once again. _'Wait__..__.'_ My momentum carries me the rest of the way. My foot touches the floor and the hesitation and the thought are gone. The bag awaits.

"Bruce." Firm insistence. There is to be no compromise with that tone.

I stop, my feet beside one another, and turn slowly. I hold my expression blank, though I see all the disappointment in his aged visage that I expected. _'I know this.'_

"Are you happy with yourself? With what you've done?"

"It was never about happiness, Alfred," is my automatic response. The words came to me without thinking.

"Not yours, certainly," Alfred concedes. He's mocking me, I know it. "The mission demands all be set aside to ensure that others are not hurt, to keep families whole, to above all protect other children from your fate."

He is silent for a few moments. Realization beings to dawn. _'He's told me this before.'_ What will come next is still a blank and I can't think of where this seems familiar from.

"It certainly didn't help Master Dick."

Anger interrupts my thoughts. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck. My lips begin to draw back into something between a scowl and a pained grimace. I suck in a sharp breath through my clenched teeth.

"It certainly didn't help Master Tim."

The rage is on my face now, there's nothing I can do to hide it. I do my best to school my expression and turn back to the punching bag. I'm standing before it a moment later, feet spread and knees bent.

"You and I knew your parents—God, rest their souls—differently. You best knew their love. I best know their hopes and dreams for you. You do them no disservice fighting to protect Gotham, fighting for our world, but you do them every disservice in doing so at the expense of all else. They would forgive your public acts, they would applaud the good you push for with charities and the clout of Wayne Enterprises and the Foundations, they would accept how you choose to spend the family fortunes, but they would never stand for your self-imposed isolation."

My fist quakes in the air beside me. My lips draw back once more and this time I feel the cave's dank air against my teeth. _'Alfred—wasn't saying it once enough, Alfred?'_

"You know what has to be done!" I'm shouting. Like those before, the words come to me without the need for thought. "There is the mission and nothing but the mission!"

Alfred's hands, closed into fists, drop to his sides. He begins approaching. "And yet you continue to waver, find love in women—did you not love Miss Beaumont? Miss Kyle? Even Miss Talia has more than caught your eye."

_'You already know you're right.'_ "Yes! I wavered—"

"And is that really weakness? Is it so wrong to want more for yourself? To be selfish?" He pauses and I turn away from his intense gaze, looking past the punching bag as I bring my feet back together below me. "Don't bother denying it to me, Bruce, I know you well enough by now. Stop lying to yourself."

My arms fall to my sides, but somehow I remain straight, hanging like a sad, wet coat on a hook. I feel empty. Alfred is the only one who can help me. "What do you want me to do, Alfred?" I feel the memories begin to clear. I remember how he will answer.

"What _you_ want to do." I still don't have the words to answer that. "Do what you want to do, Master Bruce, not in the mind of the Batman or in the skin of the Playboy, but in the heart of Bruce Wayne."

More of my memory comes back. I remember what I did when this first happened just as I turn to face him again. He's still disappointed, but I remember to notice the hope lighting his eyes.

I remember that Diana had left for the Watchtower. I have to go there, find the reason behind this déjà vu.

I reach back and grasp the nose of my cowl to pull it forward. I leave the gym, the punching bag untouched and forgotten behind me. I have a new goal to work towards.

"See her as yourself, Master Bruce, not as the public playboy or the private Batman."

_'A dream? No, too clear. Nothing out of place or ideal like the Mad Hatter's machine. John Dee? No, still incapacitated.'_

"Thank you, Alfred," I say in the Bat's voice, following the script in my mind, waiting for Alfred's response.

"Don't thank me yet, sir, not until your obstinance is forgiven."

I grit my teeth for a moment before the transporter activates. _'I don't like this.'_

A moment later and the cave's expanse widens, the open space filling out as it's replaced by the Watchtower's main transporter deck. I ignore the sight of the Earth in the enormous window opposite the control deck.

I cross the room without a word, heading for the elevators and what I expect will be my only destination. No one speaks to me as I walk, none even try.

_'I remember what I was doing before Diana arrived, I was researching Croc's history after failing to catch him. The same as before. Could…that have been the dream?'_

I step into the elevator as its doors open. I turn quickly, standing to block Booster Gold from joining me in the elevator. I reach across and ignore his pleas, pressing the button for Dormitory Deck A and waiting for the doors to close a few inches from my nose.

I step towards the back wall. I don't have long before the doors will open again. They do moments later and I lean further away, finding myself face to face with the exact person I expected to see.

"You!" he furiously shouts.

He presses me back, pushing until I am pressed flat against the back wall of the elevator. Despite my preparations, my breath escapes me involuntarily and I feel my bones compressing beneath where he holds the edge of my cape in his fists. He lifts me until only the toes of my boots are touching the floor. My eyes never leave the lividity overflowing his expression.

"What are you here for?"

_'To play my part,'_ I sarcastically answer to myself. "I'm here for her."

"Haven't you done enough? How much more can you break her?"

It's only a question. I leave my arms at my sides, safe in the knowledge that I don't need the kryptonite hidden in my belt. "No. I'm here to stop running. From myself. From her."

His fingers relax and his arms loosen, now only holding me at the wall, no longer pressing me into it. His expression doesn't change. I'm surprised, but only because the open door behind him is again more interesting. I tell myself not to care, that I have to get past him to get to Diana.

"Don't stand in my way, Kent. Not now." I let my voice speak more for me than my words. Only once have I ever spoken so deeply in the voice of the Bat to Clark, but now I suspect that one of them is a fabrication.

Unsurprisingly, I can see that he is taken aback. He overcomes his surprise momentarily, his anger back in full. He lifts me again by the seam of my cape. He turns, carrying me out into the hallway. He drops me and I fall the half foot back to the floor. He steps backwards until he is all the way inside the elevator. He lifts his right hand to the elevator's doorframe, keeping its doors from closing for a few more moments. "I swear, Bruce, if you hurt her like this again, the Justice Lords will start with _your_ death instead of Flash's."

The venom is there as it should be, but then I notice the differences. _'He never stepped out of the elevator last time.'_

His expression falls neutral and he closes the elevator doors with a press of the button, heading up for the bridge. I take a moment to think back, taking stock of all the little differences between now and the last time. They are almost exclusively my own thoughts, born from the awareness of the déjà vu.

Soon finished, I turn. There's nothing left but the door to Diana's room. I walk briskly towards it, stopping in front of it and glancing toward the keypad. I skip thoughts of knocking. I need answers.

"Security override. User code: 001"

A synthetic female voice in my cowl, "User identity: Batman, confirmed."

"Unlock this door."

The lock indicator light in the keypad's corner shifts from red to green. The door to Diana's room opens, adding the light within to the soft glow in the hallway.

I look up from the panel and, again, it's impossible for me to miss any detail about her. Her eyes and cheeks are colored with a familiar red, evidence of the tears she is too enraged to continue shedding. She is standing over her waste basket just as she should be, with her limbs bent at just the right angles and her muscles taut as if she were engaging the basket in open combat. She holds the black of her dress high above her head, ready to throw it and me away.

She lifts her head, turning to the doorway, to me. Both surprise and relief flash over her features before she replaces them with indignation. She throws the fabric at my face and I lift my right hand to catch it in the air. It still blocks my view for a few moments as I wrap my fingers around it.

I pull it out of my line of sight and take my turn at surprise as it fills my expression. A moment later, Diana's hands are flat against my chest. She pushes me, making me stumble backwards, out of her room. I nearly fall over as she follows me into the hallway. The fury on her face is unmistakable.

She reaches back, her hand naturally finding the panel and closing the door, locking it with a personal code behind her. Without a word, she turns to my left and storms off towards the elevator. She calls for it with a press of the button. She has to wait only a few moments for the elevator to arrive. She wastes no time stepping in and reaching behind herself again to press the button, hastening the doors shut.

My eyes follow her the entire time. She never looked at me for any longer than necessary. Aside from the short emotional response when I first arrived, it's like she ignored me, denying me recognition. _'Her take on dishing out the distance.'_

I look down to the dress in my hand and stare at it for a little while. I feel my thoughts take their natural course, the sort of perspective on the situation that I've practically ingrained in myself. _'This is the more likely response. The last time must have been the dream. I certainly could have dreamt it last night. I was chasing after Croc then, too.'_

My mind wanders before I close my eyes and force a sad smile. It would never be so simple patching things up with Diana. It would have been too easy to walk to an Amazon's room, say a few words, and have her forgive me with a kiss—even more unlikely with me on the receiving end.

I give a self-contemptuous humph at my thoughts and open my eyes, lifting my gaze to the elevator. I drop my arm and the dress back to my side and head towards it.

_'Looks like I'll have to disappoint Alfred again tonight.'_

I press the call button for the elevator and step back. I lift my hand again, my mind compelling me to look at Diana's discarded dress one more time. I stare at it blankly for a few moments, then hear the chime signaling the elevator's arrival.

I drop my hand back to my side and let my cape fall in front of me, hiding the dress within it as the doors begin to open. I close my eyes and lift my head to look forward again.

The hiss of the doors opening stops and all at once I feel a great pressure around the front and sides of my neck, my breath stopped dead in its tracks. My eyes flash open automatically and they start to bulge out of my head as my mind races to process the image visible through my cowl's lenses.

_'Superman!'_ My hands dart to his thumb and fingers of their own volition, wasting precious, airless seconds trying to get under his grip. I try to tilt my head back to get my mouth open, growing desperate for air and hoping I'll be able to draw at least something in through my mouth.

My eyes never leave his face. Silent fury. It practically glows like his heat vision from his eyes. It's painted across the set of his brow. It's written in the downward curve of his mouth.

A small twitch runs across the skin between his nose and upper lip and he swings his left shoulder forward. A moment later, he turns again, pivoting forward over his left foot as he throws me back.

I sail down the hall, slamming against the metallic wall. My back hits first, issuing a loud bang through the air around me. Almost at the same time, the back of my head strikes the wall, bouncing violently away and nearly driving my chin into my collarbone.

My head lolls around for a moment as I fight to stay conscious. My head pounds, throbs. I can feel something dull on the back of my skull. Logic tells me it's pain, but the rest of my body is numb. Feeling seems alien to me.

Finally, I regain control of my neck. I straighten my head and look up to find Superman floating down the hall towards me, his toes hanging only a few inches over the floor. I think of the kryptonite in my belt and hope against hope that my arm is obeying my commands and reaching for it.

Superman's eyes light up and the lower half of my field of vision is split in two by beams of red, passing below my head. I feel my fingertips touch a rough surface. My jaw hangs stupidly as I realize what it is. Superman melted the kryptonite's lead compartment shut.

"I warned you, Bruce. I told you what would happen if you hurt her again." There's no emotion to his words. I think back to the last thing he told me. He means to kill me.

That the Boy Scout could have it in him still seems too unreal, but memories of the Justice Lords fill my head to bursting. I feel like my mind is trying to make up for neglecting our corrupt counterparts when I was supposed to think of them before.

"The rest of the League will never stand for this!" I think to myself, realizing halfway through that the words are passing over my lips.

"They'll fall into line. They did for the Justice Lords. They will for me."

Superman reaches down for my throat again. He spares me the crushing pressure this time, contenting himself to lifting me slowly against the wall. He lifts his right hand towards my face. It passes above my eyes and he takes hold of my cowl.

With no great effort, he tears the cowl away and reveals my face to the empty hallway. He leans closer, staring me down. My head is held still, the back of it against the wall, the heel of his thumb and his wrist against my chin.

"What you did to Diana was low. You hurt her. You've been hurting her for years—the strongest woman in the world and _you_ found a way to break her! That's what you've always done. It's what you'll always do. It's what makes you such a good crime fighter. It's what makes you such a horrible person.

"There's nothing illegal about what you did, Bruce, but you've hurt your friends—_my friends_—more than I'm willing to tolerate anymore. I won't forgive you for that. Not anymore. Never again."

Superman winds his right fist back, giving me just enough time to exclaim through my closed jaw in a distorted voice, "Clark!" A moment later and his fist connects with my chest. Pain explodes throughout me, filling every corner of my mind as his fist plows through flesh and bone, effortlessly crushing my heart.

My body goes limp and I feel a tugging darkness around the edges of my vision and consciousness. Its pull on my mind grows stronger and I'm dimly aware as Superman drops me, my body slumping along the wall to sink down to the floor.

I feel my mind shutting down, but before I pass out, I hear Superman's voice for the final time. "Now you know how Diana feels."

Diana fills my fading consciousness. Rage joins her image on the center stage within my mind. Desperation and anguish follow. Blackness soon wipes clean the emotions and thoughts, closing in on the vanishing image of Diana. Despair fills what little of me is left.

I imagine myself screaming to keep the despair from consuming the last of my mind. There is no sound, no familiar sensation of my mouth stretched wide, no burning in my lungs for fresh oxygen. The last traces of Diana disappear, but still I continue.

Without warning, I hear my voice. Light overwhelms my senses. It dims quickly and I see familiar woodwork as my surroundings fall into focus. The sight shocks me and I stop abruptly, freezing, letting my mouth remain open as my eyes dart across my surroundings. I'm in my bedroom.

It's then that I notice my body. There is no pain in my chest. My back is arched away from the mattress, the back of my head and my backside supporting the whole of my torso from either end. My arms are spread to either side, my sheet bunched up in both closed fists. My knees are both bent, my left pointing towards the floor-length windows that make up the wall there, my right pointing up towards the ceiling.

Desperation fills my mind, clouds my judgment. _'I have to get out of bed!'_ I roll to my left, towards the windows, and nearly throw myself to the floor. I stumble and a grunt escapes my throat as I right myself. I ignore my dress and rush to cross the room.

I swing the door open, nearly letting it go free to slam into the doorstop. I grip the doorframe with both hands and lean out before stepping into the hallway. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm aware of my ragged breaths and my jaw hanging loosely from its hinge.

I let go with my left hand and swing into the hall, turning to my right and finding Alfred, approaching from the far end of the hall. He stops as I leave my doorway behind. I can see the thinly veiled shock on his face, but his concern isn't what I need right now.

I pick up my pace, nearly at a jog when at last I notice the tray in his hands, a steaming pot of coffee and a cup balanced atop it. "Master Bruce? What's wrong?" Who knows what is more surprising to him, my behavior and the expression plastered across my face or that I'm running past him almost naked but for a pair of boxer shorts.

"Not now!" No anger, but no courtesy either. In my mind, I'm already in the study, adjusting the hands of the grandfather clock to open the entrance to the Batcave. _'I'm getting ahead of myself,'_ I chastise.

I skip steps as I head downstairs. Only a few halls between myself and the study. The clock sweeps out from the wall almost before I realize I've opened it and a moment later, I'm bounding down the steps to the floor of the cave.

I finally come to a stop standing between the Batcomputer and my chair. The system comes to life under my fingers and I begin typing. Watchtower. Communication systems. Founders' channels.

A tone alerts me to my success. I hesitate for a moment, suddenly unsure of what I'm expecting. I grit my teeth and lean over the keyboard, dropping my head and closing my eyes. "Diana?" I finally ask with trepidation.

The silence as I wait tears at me. I feel a tightness forming in my chest. It cannot end quickly enough. "Yes, Bruce?" Her tone is calm. Curious, gently prompting.

My knees feel like rubber and I sink lower as relief sweeps through me. _'She isn't angry!'_ I let out an exhale, but it catches in my throat, comes out as a staggered, drawn out sigh.

"Bruce? What's wrong, Bruce?" I don't know how to answer, but she isn't finished. "Please don't tell me you're calling to cancel our date tonight." Dread.

Memories of the past few days come over me like water through a failing levee. I open my eyes and look down to the Batcomputer's keyboard. I see Enter, Shift, and the other worded keys. I realize what I should have in my haste to access the League communication channels: I can read the words.

A smile lifts the corners of my mouth. _'No, not a dream. …Not a dream.'_

Finally reassured, I remember the dread in Diana's words. "No. No, not at all, Diana. I just wanted to check in. Tell me again what time your monitor duty shift ends?"

I hear a quiet sigh of relief from Diana's end. She pauses. "Six o'clock. I'm going to change into my eveningwear before I take the transporter down." Her voice is cheery. There's an unspoken 'thank you' hiding between her words.

I give a nod as if someone were there to see it. "Good. I'll see you this evening. Batman out."

"I'm looking forward to it as well. Wonder Woman out."

I reach back out for the keyboard. With a few keystrokes, I close the channel and then finally sit down.

I close my eyes and give another sigh as I do everything I can to relax, sinking deeper into the chair. I hear a throat being cleared to my left. _'Damn. I forgot about Alfred.'_ I lift my head, turning my head towards him. "What?" My voice is more the Bat than the surrogate son.

He stands silently beside me. Watching, studying, assessing. His expression shifts and I have no trouble reading him. He's unsure of my actions and dress, of course, and his surprise isn't a surprise to me. There's something else though, something that I'm now glad to see. _'He must have been as worried as Diana was,' _I tell myself a moment before assigning a name to the thing most prominent on his face: concern.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading.

I didn't want to start with this—for obvious reasons—but I apologize for the recycled animation. I wanted to hit that segment at the beginning and I hope I've done enough to make what follows worth rereading. I also meant to start from Diana's perspective, but while I was planning, I decided to switch the first two chapters.

In its first month, Concern earned over double the visitors of subsequent chapters. Please, give the second chapter a shot before you decide you're out—the third if you're feeling really generous.


	2. Simple

**Author's Note:** No recycled animation this time! Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

_'Nothing like looking forward to something to make monitor duty seem to drag on forever.'_ Five hours and fifty-seven minutes down, three minutes to go. I try not to ask myself where Steel is. Again.

I lift my eyes from the keyboards and control panels at my fingertips. My hands find the monitor controls on their own and I cycle my focus between the screens, periodically advancing through the various feeds twelve at a time. The last event to require League attention had been an earthquake in eastern Asia—most of the damage had been to state property, fortunately. No loss of life.

I hear the monitor womb doors open, their slight hiss capturing my attention without difficulty. I'm itching to leave. My left leg hasn't been still for over an hour. An excited twitch had started my heel endlessly tapping the floor. I noticed it almost immediately, but somehow it took more conscious effort to stop, so when my leg started again, I hadn't bothered to still it a second time.

"Good evening, Wonder Woman." Steel, as expected. He still has almost two minutes before his shift technically begins. A little close, maybe, but I can't blame him for my wanting so desperately to leave.

I pull my hands from the consoles and turn, standing to greet him. My foot stills with the motion. "Good evening, Steel." I take a step away from the chair and Steel tips his head just a little to his right, a silent prompt for me to continue. "Ready to begin?"

He smiles and for a moment, I'm amazed that he can be so emotive through his armor. "Yup. Long shift?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. If I didn't know better, I'd say I sat through two shifts instead of just one." I turn back to the monitor array. I glance back across them quickly. No notices, no disaster warnings. "There don't seem to be any issues right now. It's been a quiet afternoon."

Not to say that words like "morning," "afternoon," and "night" mean much of anything on the Watchtower without finding a clock first. With so many of the League's members being based out of North America, and the United States in particular, it had been only natural for most of the Watchtower's clocks to be set to North America's Eastern time zone. In hindsight, it seemed only right, since Bruce was so involved in the Watchtower's construction and its continued upgrades, grumbled complaints aside.

I turn back to see Steel approaching the array and chair. "Good to hear. Let's hope it stays that way."

"Yes," I wholeheartedly agree as he passes me and steps around the chair to sit down.

After a few moments glancing at the monitors, Steel turns and smiles again. "Thanks. Have a good evening."

"Thank you. I'd wish the same for you…" I trail off, unsure how to kindly finish the sentence.

"But monitor duty isn't exactly fun, right? Can't say I imagined it was ever supposed to be, but it's what we get for so critical a job."

"Of course. Thank you again." I glance to the clock. Nearly 6:01. _'I need to hurry.'_

I turn as Steel refocuses his attention on the monitors and head straight for the door. A few hastened steps later, I'm in the hallway outside, heading for the main elevator and my quickest route down to the founders' quarters on Dormitory Deck A.

When I arrive at the elevator, I catch up with a few others waiting for its arrival. Closest to me are Vigilante and Shining Knight, in the middle of a heated debate about the honor of a Mr. Clint Eastwood. Question is standing alone in the center of the group, alternating between writing notes on a small notepad and tapping his chin with his pencil eraser. Fire and Ice are talking with one another, just now calming after sharing a laugh.

Black Canary is closest to the doors. I can see an anxious twitch run down her arm, like she is struggling to keep herself from pressing the elevator's call button again. She is otherwise still and quiet. _'Maybe she has a date tonight as well…'_ It's an amusing thought and she is certainly acting as I would be if I were the one waiting in front of the doors like that.

I step up beside her, tempted to speak up and test my theory. Before I can, the elevator's chime sounds. She begins to step forward, but looks over to me and pauses. "Princess Diana." She motions towards the open elevator.

"Dinah," I reply gratefully as I take a step forward, but even if it wasn't my intent, I still feel a little shame in taking advantage of my status like this. _'Only I'm not sure if she's acting out of respect for me as a League founder or as Princess of the Amazons…'_

I quickly step into the elevator and press the button for my floor, then step away from the buttons, clearing the way as everyone piles inside after me. I glance over as the doors close. My fellow passengers are all strangely quiet, all of them waiting for a little more space before resuming their conversations. Only Question continues apace, writing on his notepad.

When he lets something slip, a grumble about the benefits of homemade versus store-bought confections, I notice a scowl cross Dinah's face. I follow her gaze to the array of buttons and realize I've probably just made myself her least favorite person on the Watchtower. Dormitory Deck A has only six possible occupants, and my stop will delay her when she seems already out of patience.

When the doors open for me a few moments later, I sidestep and walk down the middle of the elevator between Fire and Shining Knight. Lifting my right hand while approaching the door, I give Dinah a supportive pat on her left shoulder. I give her a matching smile, but she replies with a look of confused curiosity.

I step out of the elevator and turn back, seeing her expression shift as the doors begin to close. Understanding. _'It looks like I was right.'_ If I'm remembering correctly, it will be with Green Arrow.

I turn forward and my eyes dance across the wall to my left. Ever since this second Watchtower was finished, I'd wondered if Bruce had planned the room assignments on this floor to torture me, to hint that something might be possible between us.

He could have just as easily put my room at the end of the hall on the left and had Superman's room separating the two of ours. He could have eschewed a numeric approach altogether and assigned the rooms arbitrarily or alphabetically by our costumed names—that certainly would have ensured our rooms would be as far apart as possible. He could have simply skipped giving himself any living space entirely or at least passed it to Shayera when she returned. _'He leaves his room empty so often that he may as well have.'_

With a shake of my head, I refocus. Just in time to stop in front of my room. I hear a quiet tone in my right ear and tap my communicator. "Diana," I say for its benefit. The newly-streamlined voice recognition takes only a moment and the door unlocks automatically for me.

Inside, I head directly for my closet. I slide most of my meager selection of civilian clothing aside, revealing the dress I had worn in Paris while dancing with Bruce. From the moment he had arrived, I hadn't planned on throwing it out—he was going to take it and be gone. I was more than ready to make him take it if he hadn't apologized.

A giggle escapes me at the memory of the ruined dress smacking Bruce in the face. A smile spreads wide across my lips and I shake my head slowly while the image sticks in my mind. Bruce, standing stock-still and dressed as Batman from head to toe, with a half-folded, torn up half of a dress blotting out his face for a moment before beginning to drop, the ears of his cowl barely poking out over the top edge. He hadn't even started to move until the dress began to fall away.

It had been tempting to laugh then. I had needed to close my eyes and flush the image from my thoughts to ask why he had come to my room. It was a legitimate question after he made it so clear that no matter what I might want to say, he was finished. My cheeks flush at the thought of what came after. Explanations. Professions. Well-deserved name-calling and a little bit of roughness. Apology, forgiveness, and acceptance, all wrapped up in a heavy coat of passion.

It had been a little difficult to rein myself in afterwards. It probably had been for Bruce as well. A few moments of awkward silence and staring one another in the eye with uncertainty had helped there. _'Maybe we should try starting this a little more…normally,'_ I recall saying to break the silence while I sat up.

He had agreed and only paused a few moments, waiting for me to get off of him and stand next to my bed. Once I was on my feet, he had asked me on a date, inviting me to a newly opened restaurant in Gotham, Gotham Delizioso. Delicious Gotham. An Italian restaurant—and for Bruce to bother picking it out, probably an upscale one.

I lift my hand to the hanger and push the ruined dress out of the way, revealing a second dress, a pristine duplicate. If there was anything I had learned from my time in the Justice League, it was that it is always prudent to have at least two of everything in your civilian wardrobe. Paris had taught me loud and clear that League business can interrupt any outing.

I pull the bottom of the unworn dress out and drape it across my hands. The foremost reason to pick this dress over the few other formal outfits I own comes quickly to mind. Bruce owes me a dance. Surely, a man as smart as Bruce, as smart as Batman, will remember our dance in Paris when he sees it. _'Hopefully he won't be so…difficult about finishing our dance now.'_

I push my other clothes away and take a step towards the bed. Ceremoniously and with a practiced efficiency, I remove nearly the whole of my Wonder Woman armor, leaving only my silver bracelets in place for now. I lift the pile of careful folds and metal from my bed and carry it to the nearby bureau. After depositing and sorting each item, I turn my attention down to the drawers, retrieving undergarments to match the dark dress.

With undergarments in hand, I turn to the bathroom to take an almost rushed shower. Under the water, I finally remove my bracelets to clean my forearms and wipe clear a bit of dust and grime, trapped beneath them during my mission in the morning. After stepping out of the shower, toweling off, and drying my hair as much as is practical, I look myself over in my bathroom mirror.

I hold no shame in standing bare before the mirror. I imagine the lines and shape of the dress against my body; I remember from the original that it will cover most of me regardless of how I look beneath it. Below the bottom hem, Bruce will at best catch a glimpse of my feet and ankles. Above, I am more sure than before that it does hide a little more of my bust than my armor.

I give a self-satisfied nod and smile, then begin to dress, starting with my bracelets. Once ready, I return to the closet and retrieve the dress, adding it to my attire before reaching in with my feet for a pair of formal heels almost the same height as the red boots from my outfit. When they are in their proper place on my feet, I turn to a waist-high shelf at the right end of the closet. I grab my modestly plain, black evening bag and put my League communicator inside after changing its settings to better hear its tones while it's outside my ear.

I close the bag while closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. "Alright. Do or die." I open my eyes and spin towards the door. _'And Hera help any criminal who tries to get in my way tonight.'_

I manage to get all the way to the elevator before seeing anyone. When the elevator doors open and while we both pause for a few moments, I can't decide if I'm lucky or unlucky that it's Superman. Lucky, of course, since he's such a good friend. Unlucky because he was the only one there to witness when my emotionless veneer cracked and my anger boiled over after I last returned from the Batcave.

I take it upon myself to break the silence, hoping to take command of our conversation. "Good evening, Kal." I add a reassuring smile, hoping to keep his worries from pushing him to interfere.

"Evening, Diana. You seem in good spirits. Heading down to the surface?"

"Yes. I'm going to have dinner in Gotham." His smile withers and I can't help but wish I had caught myself and left it at a simple 'yes.'

"Gotham? There are a lot of charities and centers there. Did Bruce set you up with an invitation to one?" He's avoiding the issue and he knows it.

_'May as well cut to the heart of it. Better sooner than later.'_ I shake my head, holding the smile steady on my lips. "No. We're going to dinner together."

"What?" Disbelief, astonishment. He lowers his chin and begins to shake his head.

_'Oh, I wish J'onn had been on the elevator.'_ He would be quick to understand. _'Or John.'_ He wouldn't have been so curious. _'Or Wally.'_ His curiosity I could have brushed aside with vague, good-humored suggestions that he might make into amusing jokes later.

"Diana, didn't you—" He pauses, lifts his head to face me. "Weren't you—" Another bewildered pause. "_Why?_"

I give a sigh. He had visited before I retired two nights ago, about an hour after Bruce had left for a second, abbreviated patrol. The where and when of our date were already all but set in stone. I had told him simply that Bruce and I had worked things out and insisted on leaving it at that, a part of me afraid that our date would never come to pass. _'Of course this would come back to bite me when I'm nearly late.'_

"Kal, please. Don't worry about me." I need a more specific way to appeal to him. "You've known him for years—for far longer than I have. Surely you trust him enough to not worry." It's a little odd not to be using Bruce's name, but given the topic, it isn't necessary.

"Diana, I trust him with my life." He looks away, past me, in the direction of the doors on my side of the hallway. His voice drops. "But hearts are a completely different matter." He's nearly muttering.

"Kal…" I begin, lifting my hand to his shoulder and spreading my lips into a friendly smile, "Then trust me to know what I'm doing with mine."

"Yeah, but, Diana, you must know about his past, right? Look at all the women he's been with over the years."

"But how many was he being honest about and how many were part of the persona?" My answer surprises him a little and he lowers his head, closing his eyes as a pensive look crosses his expression.

"At least one or two. I think I've seen him serious before." For a moment, Kal seems…frustrated. He masks it quickly, laughing and telling me, "Well, you're certainly the only one who could tear up his car and juggle the parts."

I laugh along with him. The questions of who, when, and where beg to be asked, but I stay my voice. Primarily, it's because of the urgency creeping into my thoughts. I've spent too much time getting ready and now delaying.

"Thank you, Kal," I begin, stepping past him to press the call button for the elevator that had closed behind him some time ago, "but, don't worry about me. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Kal steps away, clearing the way for me to stand by the elevator as I wait. "I know. It's just… Well, you know how he is. I can't help but worry."

The elevator arrives with a chime and an idea strikes me. The doors open and I smile as I reach over for Kal's arm, pulling him into the elevator as I step in.

"Diana?"

"You're not going to talk me out of this, Kal. I'm going no matter what you try to tell me, but if you'd like to help…" The doors close behind us as I turn back to face my Kryptonian friend. "You're welcome to stay _outside_ of Gotham and make sure nothing interrupts us."

The confusion leaves his face, fading away to reveal a friendly smile. He nods slowly. "Deal." When he stops, he lifts a hand to his chin and the smile widens into a grin. "You know, Diana, you better be careful, that sounded sort of like something Batman would say."

The joke brings a round of hearty laughter. I barely stop myself from pretending to pull a cowl over my face and replying with "And another thing, don't call me 'Diana.'" For a moment, I laugh harder at the mental picture, but I stop myself, knowing it's very much inappropriate, considering I'm on my way to a date with the man.

The doors open to the main transporter deck as our laughter ends. Both of us file out of the elevator quickly, making way for Green Arrow, Hawk, and Dove. All three men gawk at my appearance, caught speechless as we pass each other. It's sobering. Everything my mother and sisters had ever taught me pushes me towards hating such a reaction, but I've grown more than used to it in my years in Man's World. In a way, it's emboldening, but it's disheartening to know that Bruce will tame any such reactions of his own.

I can't help but give a sigh as I approach the transporter platform. _'Well, so long as I can get a dance and a second date, it'll be worth it. A trouble-free evening wouldn't hurt either.'_

"Excuse me," I tell the transporter technician while moving behind the controls, forcing him to step aside. Once he has moved enough to not see the screen, I reach into my evening bag and press my forefinger to my communicator. After a few moments, the console's screen shifts, a founders-only input panel overlaying the others. I select the Batcave's location and, when prompted, hold my left thumb to a small scanning pad. My thumb in place, I type my user code, costumed name, and a password on the neighboring on-screen keyboard using my free hand.

One of the transporter pads past the console hums to life as the screens close. I thank the technician before vacating the controls, then step past them towards the activating machines.

Spots of light gradually surround me. They begin dissipating as soon as they fill my vision. The image of steel, open space, and the expanses of our world are replaced by rock, the contrast of light and dark, and the Batcave's chief staples: the Batmobile, the Batwing, the Batcomputer, and of course, Bruce and Alfred to greet me.

Alfred is wearing a full suit of gray, from his shoes all the way to the cap perfectly centered atop his head. A chauffer's attire. Bruce beside him is in almost all black. Only his dress shirt and tie provide any sort of contrast. In the cave's darkness, the brilliant white of his dress shirt nearly glows where it peeks out from beneath the neck of his jacket. The same goes for the dress shirt's cuffs, just visible past the ends of his jacket's sleeves. His tie, a deep shade of red, provides the only bit of color to his outfit as it hangs from his neck before ducking under the cover of black fabric.

I spend a moment in silent admiration as I begin the walk down from the Batcave's lone transporter pad and its modest platform. "Good evening, Bruce, Alfred," I greet the two men with a smile as the sound of my footsteps changes with the transition from metal to stone.

"Diana." Of course Bruce would keep it short and simple. "I trust you didn't have any problems on the way down."

I can hear the hidden meaning. "No, of course not, but you're right. I'm sorry for being late." Honest sincerity. _'I'm certainly later than I had meant to be.'_

As soon as the apology crosses my lips, Alfred nearly starts, suddenly flabbergasted. "Not at all, Miss Diana! We're both very glad to see you. Now, shall we all head up to the manor? I'll ask the both of you to wait there while I ready the car and bring it around."

"Thank you, Alfred," I reply, letting the appreciation in my heart fill my voice.

The older man replies with a smile and a nod before turning around and heading for the stairs to make the hike back up to the cave's hidden entrance behind the study's grandfather clock. While he walks towards the bottom of the staircase, Bruce approaches me. We meet in the middle of the cave floor and I lift my arms at the elbow, mirroring his movements.

Our thumbs come to rest in the crooks of each other's elbows, each of us wrapping our hands and fingers around the other's forearm. A few moments pass between us in silence, the smiles on our faces speaking in our place. Finally, Bruce leans closer and down, cutting away the scant few inches of our difference in height. He tips his head to the side and plants a gentle kiss on my right cheek with warm lips. I sense a little hesitation and find myself wishing his lips had touched mine instead.

He barely pulls away from my skin after only brief contact. His lips hover forward, over my cheek. "You look absolutely stunning," he compliments in a whisper as his lips pass in front of mine. It doesn't escape my notice that his eyes are closed. He continues moving, finally pausing again to plant a second kiss on my left cheek.

He starts to lean back and I chase after him, catching his lips with my own. I watch with relish as his eyes flash open in surprise. The surprise fades almost instantly and a gentleness matching his kisses fills his expression. I pull back after a few seconds more. "So says the man with his eyes closed," I jest before smiling.

He offers a smirk in response, then straightens and gently pulls his arms free. He turns, presenting his left elbow and arm as he looks across it towards me. "Let's not keep Alfred waiting."

It takes only a moment to realize what he expects. I lift my right arm while defeat and victory wage a small battle in my mind. _'I'm glad that he's willing to be himself for me, but…at the same time…'_ I hook my arm around his forearm despite myself. I feel like I'm losing a part of myself.

_'No. No matter what I enter into with Bruce, we are every bit as much equals as he is my better in some things and I am his better in others.'_

My mind runs through lists of each. Why we are equals. In which areas his skills surpass mine. In what ways I am superior. When I finally pull the last of my focus from my thoughts, I find that we're at the top of the staircase.

I notice the familiar feeling of the smile pulling on my face and it broadens into a light smirk. _'A little late to be thinking of protests…'_ I've only been seeking this sort of connection for years. I've only been trying for years to convince this stubborn man that _we_ are worth the risks he is so wary of.

We exit the stairwell into the study, the clock closing behind us. Bruce pauses to set the clock's hands back to the proper time. 6:43. It isn't as late as I had imagined.

He turns back to me as he closes the glass door over the clock's face. His smile is disarming. A shrinking piece of my mind is still protesting, angry that a man could have this sort of effect on me, that I would let him, that he doesn't seem to be making any great efforts with that beautiful smile. Even so, I cannot help but be happy to return it.

We continue, arms locked, walking at a leisurely pace out of the study. Eventually, we find ourselves in Wayne Manor's grand foyer. I can hear the soft rumble of a motor outside and I know that Alfred is ready and waiting. I turn to Bruce as we approach the front door and I'm not sure if he heard it as well or if he simply knows.

Sure enough, when he swings the doors wide open, I see Alfred, standing a half-step ahead of the rear passenger door. There is a smile on his face, his hands are clasped behind his back, his chin is up, and his eyes are closed. It's unmistakable, the air of mirth that wasn't nearly as prominent as his respectfulness and the pride he carried himself with when I had seen him in the past. I hope it isn't conceited of me to think it, but... _'I hope Bruce and I are to thank.'_

The pair of us descend the steps and Alfred steps forward to meet us at the bottom. Bruce takes the hint immediately, releasing my arm and allowing the older man the honor of helping me into the car. If it had been just Bruce, I would have insisted on my independence, insisted on being able to get into a vehicle on my own, but there's something compelling, something persuading and convincing about Alfred. I let him guide me, thanking him with a warm smile. _'I wonder if he has this effect on Bruce as well…'_

Bruce climbs into the car beside me and I scoot over to the driver's side to give him room. When we are both seated, Alfred closes the door before going around and getting in himself. I notice Bruce buckling his seatbelt beside me and Alfred doing the same ahead of me. I reach to my left to follow suit, receiving the telltale click of my success a moment before the car eases out of its place in the driveway.

The car ride to the center of Gotham is enthralling. We leave the bluff the manor sits upon behind, heading down to more level terrain. I forget about Bruce, Alfred, and even the car as I gaze out the window, watching the endless, moving panorama stretch out beside me.

The evening sun has all but disappeared below the horizon. Still, there's just enough light to see. Darkening shadows dance among the trees. I see a doe and two fawns waiting alongside the road at the edge of the woods. For a fleeting moment, I even spot an owl beyond the first layer of tree trunks, swooping down on its prey near the forest floor.

No matter what beauties are inherent to all women, no matter what beauties Man's World attributes to me, this is beautiful. Nature is true beauty. I sit captivated by the largest of trees, the smallest of shrubs, the movements of light and shadow in the slight breeze blowing in parallel to the car.

My previous time in the manor, in Gotham, had been spent cooped up inside to protect Bruce's identity. Most of that time was during the construction of the second Watchtower. What little time I had spent outside the manor was spent in the air, too high to see this side of Gotham.

The drive through Gotham itself is no less awe-inspiring. Gradually, other cars join ours on the road. Almost before I'm aware of it, we're surrounded by cars, tall buildings, brilliant lights, and joyous pedestrians. In these early hours of evening, it seems that the city's infamous, ugly criminal side has yet to awaken from slumber.

Something Kal once explained to me fills my thoughts. _'I'm not sure how much I should tell you about Batman,'_ Kal's words replay in my mind, _'but if you want to understand Batman, you'll need to understand Gotham first.'_ I had done a lot of research about Gotham to satisfy my curiosity. I'd done even more research once I decided to remain in Man's World after the visions Apollo granted me.

News articles and information databases truly didn't do the city justice. Even flying above the city or looking down at its people while staking out a museum's back entrance could never compare to this, the view from the streets, the perspective of Gotham's people. _'Now…I understand Gotham.'_

I stop reveling in the city to turn to my right, barely cognizant of the car's slight rolling as it comes to a stop. I look to Bruce, find him smiling at me. "Enjoying the view?" he asks softly, hints of amusement in his tone.

"Yes," I answer with a nod, holding my newfound appreciation for this man to myself. _'It isn't just about truth, justice, and peace, he fights so this goodness of Gotham will last through the night.'_

A moment later, Alfred opens the door to my right and I turn to find his offered hand before me. I take it again, letting him guide me to my feet. I step aside and turn back to the car as Alfred does the same, waiting for Bruce to get out. I hear the telltale sounds of cameras, the flashes of light visible along the edge of my vision. Reporters. Most are excited about the arrival of Bruce Wayne. Many are openly curious about my identity.

"Mind the vultures, sir, miss," Alfred warns us in a quiet voice.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce replies. He looks past me towards the press, commenting to himself, "We would be lucky enough for this." There's a hint of contempt to his voice, but no surprise. I can't help wondering if he might have been hoping for reporters as he turns to Alfred and tells the older man, "Thank you again, Alfred. Give Leslie our best."

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replies. He turns to me as he closes the car door. "Please do enjoy your evening, Miss Diana."

"Thank you, Alfred. To you as well," I reply. He nods in response, then climbs back into the car to rejoin traffic and drive away.

"Shall we?" Bruce asks, offering his arm. I reply by joining my arm with his. He takes the first step as I turn around, facing the entrance to Gotham Delizioso and the gaggle of reporters standing on either side of the doors.

Questions fill the air about my identity. A few flashes fill my vision as the first pictures are taken. The inevitable happens, my bracelets provide the clue and one reporter after another recognizes me as Wonder Woman. The cameras' flashes begin in earnest. For a few moments, I have to hold my eyes closed in a long blink, the intense light nearly constant, like a flood lamp.

Bruce, clearly more accustomed to the attention, continues on, leading my sadly disoriented self through the crowd and up the stairs to the door. When the flashes begin coming from our sides instead of in front of us, the reporters begin calling our names, begging for comments, explanations. Any sort of response for them to write about.

Despite myself, article headlines begin running through my mind. I can see the pictures. I can read the accompanying articles, filled with scandalous speculation and dotted with the odd fact. Our location. The date and time. That Bruce Wayne and Wonder Woman arrived in a single car and walked into a restaurant arm-in-arm.

The maître d' comes out from behind his standing desk to greet us. He recognizes Bruce instantly, addressing him by name, but feigning ignorance about me. He must have heard the reporters outside, but he still lets Bruce introduce me as both Princess Diana of Themyscira and Wonder Woman. The maître d' turns from Bruce to give me a warm and gracious welcome. I thank him and he addresses us both, inviting us to follow behind him to a table.

The maître d' leads us towards a set of stairs to a second floor dining hall. A number of small tables fill half of the room, surrounded on three sides by window after window. The other half of the room is open. Soft music fills the air and the restaurant's patrons are split between small groups and couples seated throughout the room and couples dancing on the open floor.

We follow a walkway around the edge of the dance floor towards the tables, the maître d' guiding us to a small table set by the windows. The view outside is dominated by a busy street that leads straight out, away from the building. There is an intersection in the restaurant's shadow, splitting traffic off to the left and right.

I remember the museum, arguing with Bruce, and crushing a gargoyle's head. The perspective is very similar, but I don't feel separate from the people below. I turn to find Bruce, not Batman, wordlessly offering to help me into my seat. I look down at my dress as I sit, finding Diana instead of Wonder Woman. The subtle differences suddenly seem important, lending themselves to convince me that we are a part of the city, that I am a part of the city.

The maître d' places a menu before me on the table while Bruce sits, then begins to rattle off a list of the night's special dishes while he places a second menu before Bruce. He leaves shortly after, assuring us a waiter will soon arrive to take our orders for drinks and entrées.

I flip through the menu's pages twice before I look up and ask, "Any suggestions?"

Bruce gives a quick chuckle. "Not really. This is my first time here and Alfred hasn't heard much more than that the food is good."

The waiter arrives only a few moments later. He asks our drink preferences and Bruce surprises him by declining the house's special wine, replying only that he isn't much in the mood for drinking, insisting he will be satisfied with a pitcher of ice water. I follow suit. _'Best to keep tonight simple.'_

The waiter then asks our orders and I let Bruce pick first, still trying to decide for myself. He orders house salads for us both, then glances up and down the menu for another moment before requesting the linguine all'astice. I find the item on my menu. Lobster with linguine. I look at the price and figure that Bruce won't mind paying for a more expensive meal for me as well.

The waiter spends a quick moment writing, then turns to me again and I answer, "Veal ravioli with sweetbread and mushrooms."

"An excellent choice, madam," the waiter responds as he begins writing, just as he had done for Bruce's order. He asks us to wait another moment for the delivery of our drinks, our appetizers, and bread and dips for the table.

I wait until the waiter is out of earshot. "Find something worth trying?" I ask with a little humor.

"I should hope. It must be the most expensive dish for a reason." His answer has humor to match my own. His expression grows somber and he leans forward. "I'm sorry about the reporters. I figured they would be here."

I look down for a moment, remembering what _I_ had figured. "It seems to me that you wanted them to be here."

He straightens, looking surprised. A smirk replaces it before he relaxes. "In a way, yes. It's…less complicated this way. For us, I mean."

"How so?"

"Would you rather date me?" He pauses, lowers his voice. "Or me?" I'm beginning to see his point, but I have one of my own.

"Bruce, so far as I'm concerned, there isn't a difference." I give him a smile to assure him that I mean that in the best way possible. _'Just as there is no difference between Wonder Woman and Diana of Themyscira. I am a hero and a symbol either way. I am my mother's daughter either way. I am still living in exile either way.'_

"I'm glad," he answers with clear relief.

After a pause, he refocuses on my question, expands on his answer. "We can be seen in public like this. We can come up with stories of secret meetings after what happened in Paris if need be. We'll only ever have to hide _us_ around people who don't know…_me_." The emphasis makes his unspoken meaning clear.

Romance on the field would be prohibited for all the obvious reasons. Likewise, we would have to be careful on the Watchtower. The founders all know that Batman and Bruce Wayne are one and the same, but the way he said it makes me think that there are others who know his secret. _'I'll have to ask later. I certainly should know.'_

With that, I let business fall to the wayside to talk pleasure instead. Or at least that is my intent and hope, but Bruce starts our conversation by asking me about my League work. I get the feeling he already knows everything I tell him, but he still manages to seem genuinely interested. I'm only happy to talk. Despite the logic telling me he knows, it's encouraging to have him asking me himself, to see him taking so personal an interest.

When I run out of stories to retell, I turn the conversation around. I ask Bruce about Wayne Enterprises. He talks me through the company, its various divisions, and makes a point of mentioning the foundations named in honor of his parents.

He smiles. "You remember I mentioned a woman named Leslie to Alfred?" I nod. "Dr. Leslie Thompkins. She was a colleague of my father's. They studied medicine together.

"She has always been a close family friend. Now she runs the Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic in Park Row. She and Alfred…" A pained look quickly crosses his expression. I feel for a moment that if I reached out, I could touch his hesitation.

I offer my hand instead, turning my palm up and sliding my left arm out towards the middle of our small table. He takes notice immediately and lifts his right hand. He hesitates again, but in the end, he rests his hand in mine.

He is silent for a short while more. "Leslie and Alfred took care of me after I…lost my parents." The pain is more evident, on his face and in his voice.

I give Bruce's hand a gentle squeeze. A moment later and I find my thumb rubbing a small circle on the back of his hand. He looks up from his blank gaze aimed at the table. He finds my eyes and his expression brightens. "You honor them, Bruce. Every day. Every night."

His expression hardens for a moment and I fear that he might reprimand me for assuming anything about him or about his parents. _'No, Bruce, you're right. I didn't know them. But I know. I know how hard you fight. I know that the effort you display is not because you feel inferior to anyone in the League. Even if it's only some small piece that you've allowed me to see, I know you.'_

I wait for the opportunity to speak my thoughts. Instead, his expression shifts. Gratitude. "Thank you." His hand squeezes mine back.

I smile, but then shake my head with modesty. "I'm sorry, Bruce, I never intended for us to just talk about business." I allow for a short pause, then warm my expression again. "But thank you, for trusting me enough to tell me."

He returns my smile again, then glances at the ever-emptying dishes between us on the table. He stands abruptly, still holding my hand and lifting it to keep it above the food. "May I have this dance?" he asks when he is standing next to the table on my right.

"Yes!" I exclaim with excitement before I notice the sense of déjà vu.

He leads me on a winding path through the occupied tables. Tables of restaurant patrons soon give way to pairs dancing. Bruce finds us a clear spot before turning back to me and lifting his left hand toward my waist. Memories of Paris return to me as I let him lead me in a glorious waltz. He adds quick spins, even ducking under our arms to make a few of his own. A few times, he spins me halfway around to pull my back to his chest, leaning his head over my shoulder to rest his cheek to mine.

My heart is aflutter as we dance. With each step, it seems only to swell larger in my chest. The small piece of me that shouted in protest is silent. I don't bother to hope it will stay gone. The way I feel now, I can't imagine it ever coming back.

Inevitably, the music ends, our lively waltz along with it. I don't want it to stop, but there's nothing I can do about the music. Bruce picks up on my unspoken desire when my hands remain still as he goes to lower his back to his sides. If my grip on his raised right hand weren't so firm, he might not have noticed so quickly.

He pauses for a moment, as if trying to come up with a question to ask, then takes notice of the new music starting to play. He guides my hands to his shoulders and then drops his to my waist while stepping closer. We both take our first steps and we're off, slow dancing.

We aren't dancing with the energy of our earlier waltz or our first dance in Paris. This is slower, as the dance's name implies, but seems more—in a word—intimate. For a time, the dance is enough to satisfy us both, judging by Bruce's expression and as I'm sure my own reflects.

"You know, to be perfectly honest, Diana," Bruce begins, "I feel like I'm venturing into uncharted waters right now. I'd have scared off most of my evening dates by now. For the few serious dates I've had, someone like the Joker would have surfaced already or I'd have discovered my date was a plant monster."

The Joker, I can see. _'But a plant monster?'_ I lift my eyebrows to clearly express my doubt.

"Poison Ivy," Bruce quickly explains, "She tried using her plants to marry into all the wealthy families in Gotham so she could inherit all their money after killing them off."

I struggle not to laugh, barely succeeding. The idea seems so far-fetched. But with Gotham, it probably happened just as Bruce described. If anything, I suspect he may have tamed the story to make it more believable.

My mind goes back a topic. I move my hands closer along his shoulders, eventually letting my thumbs play across the sides of his neck. "This is just fine for now, Bruce. I really have enjoyed myself so far tonight. This dance was just the dance I was hoping for.

"Thank you for tonight, Bruce."

"Thank you, Diana," he replies, "for tonight, for not giving up on me."

I nod and he pulls me closer, wrapping his hands a little further around towards my back. I smile at the added intimacy. Together, we get the same idea and our faces are drawn together. He closes his eyes and I soon do the same at the soft press of his lips to mine. A gentle, affectionate kiss.

A thought from earlier in the night repeats itself in my mind. _'Best to keep tonight simple.'_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading._  
_

Much different tone this time around, I realize. Not done yet, so look forward to more.


	3. Memory

**Author's Note:** These chapters just keep getting longer. Character ownership goes to DC Comics. I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

I'm frustrated. There's just no other way to describe it.

I look up from the street, lift my right arm and fire my grapnel at the building across the street. It catches on an outcropping and I leap towards it, swinging out past the corner of the building to land atop another roof on the next street down.

"No! No! Get away!" A male voice, shouting from below.

I turn left, down the street to the east. I hop onto the ledge on the roof's south edge. I start running, taking a leap and jumping to the adjacent rooftop, tucking into a quick roll before springing onto my feet and back into a run. I stop at the other side of the roof, looking down into the alleyway below.

A second's glance to assess the situation and I toss myself over the edge. My hands go to the leading edge of my cape and I use it to gain some control over my descent, aiming my feet towards one of the two assailants. My target is the only one of the pair wielding a gun.

A few moments later, my feet connect with the backs of his shoulders and my momentum drives him into the ground. I sink into a crouch atop him, my cape spreading out around me, settling into a conical shape reminiscent of a circus big top. I slowly rise a moment later, turning my head to keep an eye on both the second assailant and their victim.

"The Bat!" Fear. The second assailant draws a knife while backing away, inadvertently approaching the assailants' target, who in turn side-steps before flattening himself against the nearby wall. My hands are still hidden beneath my cape. I pull out a pair of Batcuffs while I step away from the unconscious gunman.

Desperation makes itself apparent on the knife-wielding man's face and he lunges forward. Without any great effort, I side-step and turn. I reach out and slap one of the cuffs onto his wrist, then twist his arm behind his back while stepping behind him. I grab his other wrist and pull it back as I lift his knife hand higher, not letting up until he howls in pain and the knife falls to the ground.

A moment after I have the cuffs on his other wrist, I spot the telltale flashes of red and blue coming from the end of the alley. I wait a few more moments, ignoring the struggling man in my grasp.

One of the approaching officers finally yells, "Gotham PD! Freeze!"

In response, I lift the man before me, hurl him over my head towards his still unconscious accomplice, and then spin towards the back of the alley while standing tall. I retrieve my grapnel long before my legs have straightened and a moment later, I aim it towards the skyline and fire. I retract the line when I see that it is secure and zip skyward.

I take a final glance back into the alley after landing again. There were two officers in the squad car. They have just finished stuffing the cuffed man into their squad car and are now putting handcuffs on the other man, even as he comes around and slowly wakes up. They make no attempt to replace my cuffs with their own. They've clearly cleaned up after me before, they'll let Gordon handle it.

I turn away and break into a quick sprint, jumping onto the next roof and then bounding from an air conditioning unit, off the top of a roof access stairwell, and then across the next gap and onto another building's roof. This latest roof is high enough that I don't need to roll, landing on my feet and continuing to run, barely losing speed from my time in the air.

I break into a full sprint to leap to the next rooftop, then go for my grapnel the moment I land, shooting it towards a gargoyle sticking out over the street to my right. The line retracts and I'm airborne again, swinging over a four-lane street. I disengage the grapnel when I'm almost across the street and make a clean landing on the other side. I turn to my right, following the street for a few blocks, glancing around as I run, looking for signs of trouble.

I glance right, to the north, and the view awaiting me brings me to an abrupt halt. My frustration vanishes in an instant. I'm looking down a street. There are no cars on it, but I recognize it regardless. I turn around and walk to the south side of the roof. There's some large lettering sticking up past the top of the ledge, overlooking the street running by below.

I lean out between two of the letters to look down at the street, the curves of a stylized 'm' to my right and the straight edge of a similarly crafted 'D' to my left. I know what the words say. I knew the moment I saw the street on the north side of the building. _'Gotham Delizioso.'_

Tonight is only the second night since my date with Diana, counting the first as my patrol after we said our farewells and she returned to the Watchtower. I've found myself here five times already. Three of those visits were on that first night.

I look down at the steps leading up to the entrance. Memories of that evening run through my mind again, as they have each time I've come here.

Diana and I arriving at the restaurant. Alfred leaving and the two of us heading inside. A good dinner. Dancing. Fun.

_'Fun, Batman? Not exactly a thought in line with my reputation.'_ In the end, I smirk despite myself. It had been fun.

I remember the end of our dinner. A comment just before we finally left our table after dessert sticks out in my mind. _'Simple, eh, Diana?'_ It was easy for her to say and easy for me to hope for, but reality had set in the moment we had walked out the doors and onto the street.

The maitre d' had kept the reporters out of Gotham Delizioso, but the crowd had more than doubled while we were busy eating and dancing. Alfred's return had excited them like young boys presented with a long stick and a large beehive.

Predictably, Summer Gleeson had arrived with her WGOB crew sometime while we were inside. Unlike the others, she wouldn't step aside. She knew Bruce Wayne too well to let him walk away without a word. The woman would have stopped Batman for a statement if given the chance.

While Alfred helped Diana into the car, she had finally gotten a word out of me for Gotham Insider. She asked the right question, how _I_ could personally know _Wonder Woman_ and if Diana knew my reputation with women.

_'We met at an event in Paris. I invited her to dance to help her escape the questions from other attendees. Our dance was interrupted, as you might recall, by terrorists trying to kidnap Queen Audrey of Kasnia, then Princess. We promised then and there to finish our dance someday. As to your second question, Summer, Diana is far too intelligent...'_ I recall answering.

It sort of sounds dry in hindsight, more like a report than a quote for a news story. Now, repeating the words in my mind, I can trail off. I'm still not quite sure how I would have finished aloud. I had been cut off far more abruptly when I spoke, but then, Alfred isn't here now to remind me I've said enough.

_'Good thing for Alfred, too. That sentence had too many dangerous ways to end.'_ I could have accidentally hinted at being Batman. I could have broken out of the Playboy mold far too early to be believable. I could have made a terrible 'wonder' joke about Diana or said I was going to avoid making one before complimenting her.

Of course, ever since, a swarm of reporters had hung by the manor's front gate, having first followed Alfred, Diana, and I back from dinner. All of them wanted a statement for their own shows, for their own articles and headlines. They would have loved to corner either of us to get it, but sadly, the front gate at 1007 Mountain Drive in Gotham is a little easier for them to stake out than the docking bays of the Watchtower.

Desperation to get out for patrol had almost pushed me to driving out with Alfred at night to get in town, but it would have been too conspicuous. Fortunately, I had remembered another avenue in and out of Gotham: the Watchtower. Sadly, even the Watchtower wasn't an easy route.

The first night, I had transported up and immediately succeeded in confusing the life out of the on-duty transporter technician by brushing her aside to return myself to the heart of Gotham. This past morning had been similar, only I had stopped by the computer bays for a few minutes to collate some data and send it ahead of myself to the cave.

Tonight, Diana was on monitor duty and she saw the transporter logs when they updated. The moment I stepped off the pads, she had called for me over the founders' channel. The _general_ founders' channel. Whether it was on purpose or by accident was already immaterial when Flash chimed in to joke about the Dark Knight competing with the Prince of Gotham. Shayera had cut him off before I could, shutting him up and reminding him that they had an evacuation to manage.

Arriving in the monitor womb, Diana had asked if I was planning to leave without checking if she was aboard or not...again. She'd offered to forgive my silent reply on the condition that from then on, I find her to steal a moment of privacy together before heading back down to Gotham. Of course, it all hinged on whether she was aboard or not at the time.

Past satisfying my own wants, she argued it gave the technicians less to wonder about. Who knows how quickly one would have figured out my identity with me on and off the Watchtower so quickly and so often while reporters are camping at the end of my driveway.

I've only done it once so far and not exactly on my own yet, but the idea of sharing frequent, though cautiously private embraces and kisses with Diana has already more than dulled any press-borne frustrations over my situation with her. Still frustrating is the situation around that dream. I lift my gaze from the street. _'If I should call it a dream... Too many oddities to that night—like not being able to remember what led up to me falling asleep, not knowing how I even made back it home.'_

A voice in my cowl interrupts me. "Sir." Alfred. Avoiding my name to protect my identity.

I put a finger to my ear. "What is it?"

"You have a…call." He seems almost uncharacteristically uncertain of his words.

I frown. Alfred knows the protocol. "Take a message."

"As I told her I would, sir, but she is rather insistent."

_'She? Can't be Diana. Diana would have just used the League channels.'_ I pause for a few moments to think. I can't bring myself to ask who, no matter how confident I am that we're on a secure channel. "Fine. I'll be back soon."

"Very good, sir. I'll ask her to wait." As Alfred answers, I pull out my grapnel and fire it away. I swing from Gotham Delizioso's roof and let the retracting line pull me up on top of the gargoyle it latched onto. With a leap and another shot of my grapnel, I land on a high rise's roof.

I walk casually to the center of the roof, then reach for my cowl. A small on-screen display pops up on the lens of my cowl and I quickly patch into the Justice League's channels. "Batman to Watchtower. One for transport."

"Affirmative, Batman. Standby." Mr. Terrific.

J'onn's immersion into humanity had done the reclusive Martian some real good. He is certainly much more personable now. Since returning to the League, he is more like Superman or Flash, leading a double life as a citizen and a League founder.

On returning to the League in the wake of Darkseid's revival, he hadn't even requested Mr. Terrific relinquish his old duties. Eventually, Terrific had offered J'onn J'onzz his duties while he was aboard, but the Martian had been reluctant to take him up on it. He insisted that he was wary of falling back into his old habits.

The transporter's light begins to surround and engulf me. I give a small smirk and a quiet humph. _'And it was Diana who eventually convinced him we wouldn't let him fall back into that rut.'_

I close my eyes for a moment, opening them when the transporter's light has faded and my ears are filled with the drone of the Watchtower's systems and machinery. I step off the pad and approach the transporter technician.

"Which founders are aboard?" I ask simply and without explanation. She isn't surprised. Outside of the original seven, none who have been part of the League for long would dare to ask why I do anything.

She takes a few moments looking through the logs before answering. "Superman, Green Lantern, and Flash, sir."

I give a slight nod in reply as I turn and head for the elevators. _'I should still spend a few moments aboard. Diana is certainly right about that.'_

After a short and lonely ride in the elevators, I step out into the hallway of Dormitory Deck A. All three of my fellow founders are standing together just down the hall from Superman's door in mid-conversation. _'This would happen…'_

Flash is facing the elevator while the other two men are facing away. The speedster is the first to see me. "Hey, Bats!"

John and Superman turn towards me as Flash darts around them, zipping down the hall and coming to a stop at my side. He throws an arm over my shoulders and hangs forward, making sure to put himself well within my field of vision. My expression sours as I focus on the mirth on Flash's face and while John and Clark take their time approaching.

I try not to let frustration get the better of me. "Wally," I warn.

He ignores it. "You really shoot for the stars, don't you?" A second's pause as he hopes I will respond. "Come on, Bats, don't tell us you were embarrassed by all the attention. Is that why you've been spending even less time than usual up here? You'd think a guy like you would be used to appearing in the tabloids.

"Oh, I know! You said something stupid and now she won't talk to you!" My frustration finally makes its way to my face. He chuckles. "Great job, Bats! You are so in the doghouse..."

My lips turn into a devilish smirk. "Wally, didn't you mention the other day that you finally got a new standing cut-out to replace the one Orion broke?"

Flash's arm is off me in a heartbeat and he's standing before me, a look of fear and shock plastered across his face. "No! You wouldn't!" I answer with silence. "Not my standee!" He zips back to his door, punches in his code to save himself a precious second waiting for the voice system, then ducks inside. He's out before the doors are even open all the way. He punches in another code and the door closes while he zips back towards me.

"Ha! My standee isn't even on the Watchtower!"

"Oh? Are you sure?" Genuine amusement coats my words.

For a moment, Flash's confidence holds. Then he begins to second guess himself. The horror is back on his face soon and he rushes past me, rapidly pressing the elevator's call button until it arrives. He boards it quickly and begins pressing the button to close the doors until Lantern holds them open with a wedge-shaped construct.

"Sorry, man. Congratulations. Maybe now we can all stop talking about _my_ love life?" John jokes before joining Flash in the elevator.

_'Running before I can give him something to worry about.'_

The doors close and I'm left alone in the hall with Superman. I give a slight start at the realization and my right hand goes to my belt. My index finger starts to twitch over the clasp of the compartment of necessity, the compartment of last resort.

"You didn't _actually_ do anything to Wally's standee, did you, Bruce?" There's no hint of anger in the Kryptonian's tone. If anything, he sounds like he's trying to keep from laughing.

"No," I reply, steadying myself and dropping my hand back to my side. I turn slowly to face him.

"So, Bruce, what are you doing up here at this time of night? Kind of early for you, isn't it?"

I hear his question, but I can't answer. I can barely even see Superman. All I see is the wall past him, the far end of the hall. I can see myself dying against it.

"Bruce?" I must have been silent for too long.

I shake my head, side-stepping to get the wall out of my line of sight. I take a moment to think of a reply, to remember his question. "Phone call in the manor."

"Ok. Well, what're you doing here? Planning to answer it in your room?"

"No. There are too many reporters at the manor. I've been using the Watchtower to bounce back and forth between there and Gotham."

Superman nods with understanding. I don't know why, but I elaborate a little. "Diana suggested I spend a little time here aboard the Watchtower each time to keep the staffers from picking up on who I am."

"Good idea."

"What were the three of you doing awake?"

"Just getting back from a late mission. We were all about to retire."

"And Diana?"

"Separate mission in Kasnia. Well, maybe I shouldn't call it a mission. It's nothing apocalyptic, just a personal request from Queen Audrey." He pauses, takes a deep breath in hesitation. "So... Diana... Heard you two had a good time of dinner at the…"

"Gotham Delizioso."

My answer puts a hard stop on his measured approach to the conversation. "An Italian restaurant? Really, Bruce? Didn't you think that going the extra ten feet for a Greek place would have been just a little bit more fitting?"

"It was a new restaurant," I defend. I'm following his example and relaxing, falling back to our all but friendship. "Besides, I get the feeling Diana's had enough Greek food in her lifetime. A little change couldn't hurt."

"Alright, I can see that. Well, in any case, she's been pretty happy about it since she got back to the Watchtower. I have to hand it to you, Bruce. I had my worries, but you're serious about her, aren't you?"

_'Yeah, you should remember how that looks, Kent.'_ I smirk again before refocusing on my answer. "I am, Clark. Don't worry about it."

He gives a chuckle, the laugh of a joke that started before I arrived. "Careful, Bruce, _that_ sounds like something _Diana_ would say." Another pause, leaving me without explanation for the emphasis. "...Bruce. I'm sorry." A sincere voice.

"Sorry? What for?"

"For doubting your intentions. I ran into her by the elevator when she was on her way down to Gotham to meet you. After what happened last time, I tried to talk her out of it."

I spend a few moments letting his words hang in the air. He can't look me in the eye, or rather in the cowl. His head is turned away, his gaze downcast. _'Superman, the Man of Steel, is ashamed of himself…'_

I start snickering. He lifts his eyes, turning to me. My snickering explodes into hearty laughter, something Joker would pay millions to hear and billions to see. There's something hilarious about all of this, though it's certainly not him.

"What? How is that funny? I'm trying to apologize to you!"

He's getting angry, I need to stop and explain. I shake my head and raise my hands to halt him while I quickly control myself. "It's not that. You decided to tell Diana not to let herself get close to me and thought it would work?

"Clark, do you know how many _years_ I spent trying to dissuade her against the same thing? The day I succeeded was the day she finally got through to me. Diana is nothing if not persistent." I pause. I turn enough to see the door to her room and correct myself while glancing toward it. "Well, certainly not nothing…"

"Persistence, eh?" It's Superman's turn to smirk. "Well, you certainly make a good match for that!"

He refocuses after a moment, his expression turning more somber as I turn back. "So, Bruce, I have to ask…"

"Why in public?" I finish, already anticipating his train of thought. He nods. "Are you asking as a friend or as Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet?"

"Just as a friend. Don't worry." I nod in acknowledgement before answering.

"Clark, imagine you didn't have a double life. Imagine you were in Diana's position, you were yourself no matter where you were or what you were doing. Your mere arrival would create a commotion. You'd have to coop yourself up here in the Watchtower to get any semblance of privacy.

"I couldn't ask Diana to coop herself up in the manor to protect my identity. She would have had to if she was going to enter a relationship with me as Batman."

The understanding is clear on Clark's face. "Don't take this the wrong way," he soon begins, "but did you ask Diana what _she_ would want?"

"No. At least not before." There's certainly no harm in telling Clark. A private conversation, of course, but knowing will help to ease Kent's worries about two of his closest friends. "She said she doesn't see a difference."

Confusion. "In where she's being cooped up?"

I shake my head for a moment. "In me."

Clark nods again in understanding. "I'm glad." He falls silent for a short time, giving me the peace of mind in which to remember the phone call waiting for me back at home.

"Alright, Bruce. I won't try to interfere anymore. Just…_please_ try not to hurt her or drive her away again." His expression becomes somber again, his words sharply pointed. "It hurts seeing a close friend cry and knowing that another friend is responsible, especially when it's a woman as strong and independent as Diana. That's something that stays with you."

I take my turn to nod in acknowledgement. We're both silent for a few moments. Then Superman breaks the silence with a yawn. "Well," I reply, "that's my cue to leave."

"Yup. Night, Bruce." Clark turns towards his door, waving over his shoulder as I turn back to the elevator.

When I get back to the transporter deck, I take over the control console for a moment, running through the motions of accessing it with my communicator, navigating the founders' screens, and authorizing myself with barely a wasted thought. I step up onto the pad and after a few seconds, I'm back home in the Batcave, Alfred waiting near the Batcomputer, looking a little impatient.

"Very good to see you return, Master Bruce." His tone is its usual, welcoming cheeriness.

"Thank you, Alfred. Is…"

He interrupts, saving me from asking the rest of the question. "She is still holding, sir."

A quick wave of dread passes over me when I realize just how long I spent aboard the Watchtower. I hurry towards Alfred, ready to use the Batcomputer next to him as a phone. I've already reasoned against it, but I can't help but confirm, "It's not Diana, is it?"

"No, sir. You are more fortunate than for that. I will not spoil the surprise any further, save saying that it is a call for Master Bruce. The rest you'll have to ask yourself." Hints of a wry smile pull at his lips.

I let slip a low growl of annoyance, but his smile only broadens as he turns to watch me when I reach the Batcomputer's seat. I sit down quickly, reaching out and dancing my fingers across the keyboard. When the system is ready, I put a trace on the active phone line while reaching across for the dedicated call button.

"Hello? This is Bruce Wayne," I say, playing it safe and lifting the pitch of my voice to the tone of the Playboy.

"Bruce, finally! How much longer were you going to keep me waiting? Wait, forget that. More importantly, how long were you planning to keep the news to yourself?"

"Lois?" I ask with surprise. I don't need any information past the sound of her voice and the Metropolis area code from the trace.

"Yeah. I'm alright. How are you doing, Bruce?" She pauses, not really waiting for an answer to her hasty question. "I can't _believe_ you wouldn't give me the exclusive to break this one! You haven't really said much, have you? You can still give me the first interview. Come on, Bruce, you owe me! I've never even written a headline for my other exclusive…"

_'Her other exclusive…that she knows the secret identity of Batman.'_ I'm a little surprised that a tough-as-nails reporter like Lois Lane would never attempt to write the biggest story of her career, assuming she still doesn't know about Clark. The Detective in me compels me to ask, "Really? Not one word?" There's more I leave hidden in the words.

She picks up on it. "No, of course not!" She finally slows down, taking the time with her words, thankfully unaware that Alfred is beside me to listen. "Truth be told, Bruce, I spent a long time regretting that I didn't come with you to Gotham.

"I meant what I said back at the airport, Bruce. I've been trying not to, but I still keep up with the news about you. Both during the day and at night."

"Lois…" I try to begin.

"Hold on! Keep your big, black, impossibly quiet boots on!" She drops her voice back down. "...I have to admit, I'm really glad you've found someone to be serious about. Maybe now I'll finally be able to move on."

The admission surprises me. I try to encourage her. "What about Superman? He's always been there for you, hasn't he?"

She gives a tired sigh. "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I really do like him, love him, but even now he really only shows up when I need to be saved. And I still haven't been able to squeeze his secret identity out of him. I just _know_ he doesn't run around in his blues twenty-four hours a day.

"And that's the other thing, Bruce. You've never denied anything to me. You were still open to me afterwards. Superman spends his time dodging questions and—I don't know—_teasing_ me!"

"Lois," I answer after a short while, "if there's anything I've learned about superheroes, it's that they're persistent and stubborn to a fault."

She laughs. "Voice of experience, Bruce? How long has she been wearing on you?"

I chuckle in response. "Maybe I should wait before answering."

I can hear the excitement building in her voice. "You're going to give me an interview?"

"Yeah…sure."

"Great! Can you make it to Metropolis tomorrow morning? It'll be a lot easier than me trying to get to Gotham."

I turn to Alfred who gives an immediate nod. "Of course. Where should I meet you? The airport?"

"No. Would you mind meeting me at The Planet? I have a deadline for another story I have to get to the editors by noon tomorrow. Oh! Do you think you could get Diana to come, too?"

"I'll…certainly see what I can do."

"Really glad to hear it, Bruce. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Good night, Bruce."

"Good night." I hear the click of her receiver. I press the call button again, ending the call from my end.

"Very good, sir. Shall I make the arrangements for your private jet?"

"Yes, Alfred. Thank you. I'll contact Diana in the morning."

Alfred pauses for a moment, the silence telling. "She's in Kasnia, visiting the queen."

"Very well, sir. Will you be retiring now or is there more work you'll be doing first?"

"I'll be up within the hour."

Alfred pauses, looking to a digital clock display high on the Batcomputer. 3:07. "As you say, sir." Skepticism. I can tell, he doubts I'll be in bed before 4:30.

As Alfred turns and heads upstairs, I quickly dive into my logs and records to prove him wrong. Updating takes only ten minutes, but I soon lose myself in past records. After what feels like only a few extra minutes, I look back to the clock and groan. 4:33. I've only succeeded in proving Alfred right.

I pull myself from the computer, standing and putting it into standby mode. The screen blackens and I'm left with the array of lights set about the cave's ceiling. I stand and head for the display cases. I change out of my Batsuit, not bothering to put on any more clothing than a pair of slippers as I head for the stairs. I get up to the light switches and turn back, watching as I turn off one set of lights after another, until I'm finally left with only the lights further up the stairwell.

I get into the manor and figure that Alfred has gone to bed, finding he has left only a few lights on for me. I glance outside. The moon is full enough that I can see without aid. I turn off lights as I get to each room and each hallway. Finally, I make it up to my bedroom.

I kick the slippers off when I get to the bed, then crawl underneath the covers and relax. Sleep is upon me before I know it, my consciousness flooded by the unique sensation of sleep. A darkness. Relaxing peace. Timelessness.

It all ends abruptly. I'm surprised to see light. I'm in my room, but from a perspective other than my pillow. I'm in the center of the room, past the foot of my bed. I look around. I can see outside and that the sun is up, but I can't see myself. I turn around. I can't find myself. I can't see or feel my arms, my legs, any part of me.

The door opens and Alfred stops under the arch of the doorframe, not taking the extra step to enter the room. "Miss Diana?" His tone is gentle, cautious.

I turn my attention to my bed, finally noticing Diana's form beneath my bed sheets. She rolls from her side onto her back and lifts her head to look past the foot of my bed. She is alone. "Bruce?" There's a sadness in her voice. It stabs at me.

Alfred nods. "Yes, Miss. Master Kent has delivered him. He is in the cave."

Diana turns to the windows beside the bed. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll be down as soon as I can."

"Of course. Shall I ask him to wait for you?"

"No. You don't have to, Alfred."

Alfred nods, then returns his hand to the door handle. He carefully pulls the door closed while taking a step back. It doesn't make a sound.

Diana recaptures my attention as she gives a stuttering sigh. I turn back to her, confused about what is happening. She looks to be about on the verge of tears and Alfred's words were…worrying, to say the least.

Before I can wonder about it, Diana frantically shakes her head from side to side for a moment before flipping her covers aside. She quickly turns and lifts herself until she is sitting, her feet hanging over the edge of my bed to the floor. For a moment, her nudity captivates me. _'Diana…naked…in my bed…' _Now I know why Alfred hadn't ventured any further into the room. Before I can study her further, her expression yanks my attention back from her body.

She has banished the tears that nearly escaped her eyes, but there is still no happiness in how she carries herself. She stands, crosses the room, heading for one of my dressers. She opens the top drawer when she comes to a stop before it and pulls out clothing that certainly isn't mine. A small, white Grecian robe is the first item to come out.

She tosses it over her left forearm and then sets off about the room. She seems to collect an item from each corner. Most of it is metal. Gold.

She enters the master bathroom built into the corner of the room, takes a quick shower, then dresses before coming out. I recognize the outfit immediately. I had begun to suspect it before she entered the bathroom, but now I cannot deny it. She is wearing her Amazonian ceremonial garb. The same clothing she wore for Superman's supposed funeral.

She gathers her sword and shield before heading for the door. My perspective finally begins to shift, as if being dragged along behind her.

_'I'm dead.'_ The evidence fits. Alfred's choice of words. Diana's lonely stay in my bed. Her change of dress.

Eventually, Diana reaches the bottom step at the floor of the Batcave. Alfred is waiting for her. "This way, Miss Diana." His tone is almost without emotion. It's disturbing to hear him talk like _I_ do while in the cowl.

Alfred turns, walking ahead of her into the cave's darkness. Diana follows without complaint. When they are both well out of the direct light, Alfred reaches for a light switch. I can barely see anything. Neither Alfred nor Diana seem to be as inconvenienced.

Light floods the area, revealing a shining medical table. Laying atop it is my corpse, just as I had feared. Diana stops cold and begins to quiver in anguish. Eventually, she takes a step forward, but she lifts herself a few inches into the air to float across the remaining distance.

She closes her eyes and relaxes her hands. Sword and shield each drop to the floor with a clang. She leans towards my colorless face, finally lifting her hands to my cheeks. She looks down to my chest for a moment, then closes her eyes tightly and turns back to my face. "Did he say…" She hesitates, unable to finish the question. Her hands are gently cupping my face. I swear up and down that I can almost feel her against my skin.

"Yes, Miss." Alfred begins. "An explosion aboard the Watchtower. A pipe." My perspective is drawn closer to Diana. _'No.'_

"And his cowl?"

"Ripped clear while they attempted to revive him." Anger fills me. _'No... Don't believe it. It's a lie!'_

I know what this is now. This is what happens after Superman kills me aboard the Watchtower, maybe a day, at most two later. _'An accident? He told Alfred it was an accident!'_

Alfred walks around the table and steps up to my other side. The pain is as clear on his face as it is on Diana's. He looks down to my chest. An odd look crosses his expression and he leans over me. He straightens, then hurries around my body and Diana, heading straight for the lab, drawing her attention as he moves. He comes back a moment later with one of my most precise metal detectors.

He sets it up on the edge of the medical table, then pulls the detector away from the main unit. He holds it over the hole in my chest and his eyes widen when he turns back to the detector's display. He dips the end of it into the cavity and sweeps it around the edge, never touching my flesh.

"Alfred? What are you doing?" Diana's left hand is no longer on my face, having lowered it to my right hand.

"There is no trace of metal in this wound."

Alfred nearly tosses the detector wand onto another table. He barely remembers to turn the device off before returning to the lab. He comes back this time with a three-dimensional imager. Again, he sets it up while resting it on the edge of my table.

"If you wouldn't mind helping me hold this still, Miss Diana," he requests while lifting it over the cavity in my chest.

Diana, still confused, lifts her right hand from my face and takes hold of the device from opposite Alfred's hands. The imager secured, Alfred reaches for the control panel and activates the machine. It hums for a moment, flooding everything below itself with light. The lights shift, different colors in different spectrums and different bulbs from different positions. Diana's grip keeps it almost impossibly still.

It stops after only a few seconds. Alfred repositions his hands. He gives a nod to Diana and she lets go. He carries the device over to the Batcomputer and sits down in my chair. After a few moments, Diana leaves my side and follows him over.

"I only pray that I am wrong…" he mutters. He reaches out for the Batcomputer's keys with hesitant hands and begins to access the imager's data.

_'You're right, Alfred,'_ I answer morosely. No one hears me.

The imager's data compiles quickly. It appears on the Batcomputer's main screen. Alfred reaches for a trackball and rotates the image. He adjusts the zoom and stops cold when he knows for sure what he is looking at. Something catches my eye in the corners of the screen.

"...Good Lord!" Alfred swears, interrupting me before I process what I saw.

"Alfred, what is it?" Diana demands.

He stops, as if he had forgotten Diana is beside him and is now suddenly confronted with the fact. He turns slowly and I can finally see his expression. It's grave. More serious than I've ever seen.

"There was never a pipe. The shape of the cavity in Master Bruce's chest, these depressions in what remains of his heart. They were from a fist. Master Bruce was murdered."

Diana's jaw drops slowly as shock settles in. She stands stock still for a few moments. Tears begin to well up in the corners of her eyes. She fights them back, fury filling her before the first few can fall down her cheeks. She and Alfred have surely reached the same conclusion.

A step forward and she presses a button on the underside of the console directly in front of Alfred. The row of display cases to the left of the Batcomputer splits, revealing a long-sealed room.

_'No…'_ I'm beginning to understand her intention.

Diana goes straight for it, coming to a stop in the middle of the room, standing over a circular hatch. Alfred is on his feet, barely away from the Batcomputer. "It's under this, isn't it?" She doesn't wait for an answer. _'I've never told anyone about that, not even Alfred! How could she know?'_

Diana lifts a fist to the ceiling. With an angry scowl, she drives her fist down into the metal. It holds, but barely, and she still leaves a sizable hole where her knuckles breached the hatch. Another punch and it falls away. She drops down to one knee and reaches inside with both hands. She tears open the apparatus below, pulls out a small box made of thick lead, then stands tall beside the hole.

Alfred finally catches up. "Miss Diana, what is this? What are you doing?" She answers silently, turning towards Alfred and lifting the cover off the box. The soft green glow of kryptonite fills the unlit room.

Understanding and then horror flood Alfred's expression. "No! Miss Diana, you mustn't!"

Diana lifts her gaze from the lead case and its dangerous contents. She offers a humorless, joyless smile. Her eyes are sad, disillusioned and disheartened. "I have to, Alfred."

"Please! Miss Diana, what would Master Bruce say?"

"Do whatever it takes, but make sure you stop him," Diana answers, the same look in her eyes and to her smile.

Alfred stops. He takes a step back. His eyes fall from Diana's face to the lead container in her hands. "Yes… Yes, I suppose he would, wouldn't he?"

Diana begins to turn, replacing the lead top to the small box. When it is in place, she pauses. She lifts a hand to Alfred's shoulder and, with her gaze still downcast, tells him, "Thank you, Alfred, for being a voice of reason."

Alfred lifts his gaze to the back of Diana's head, unable to see much more than part of her profile. She releases his shoulder and returns to the table with my corpse.

She spends a few moments staring down at me in silent reverence. Finally, she sets the lead container down gently, placing it beside my head on the table.

"I'm sorry, Bruce." She leans down, plants a gentle kiss on my left cheekbone. Again, I'm all but sure I feel it. "I hope you don't mind if I borrow this."

Diana lifts her hands from the edge of the table to my shoulders. She pulls the remains of my cape and cowl from my suit and gently, carefully pulls the cape from behind my body.

She takes a deep breath as she holds it up in front of herself, then whips it around back behind her. She positions the tattered edges over her shoulders, then adds my cape to the ceremonial garb already held in place beneath the pair of ruby-eyed, golden brooches atop her shoulders.

For a moment, Diana closes her eyes, grasping the cape from within and pulling it tight around herself. She clenches her eyes shut and holds still. She gives a sigh of longing before relaxing as best she can and continuing, turning her focus to her headdress.

Her hands emerge from the dark cape, the fabric billowing below her too-narrow shoulders. She lifts her hands to her head, taking hold of both sides of her winged circlet. She slowly lifts the circlet clear and holds it out. After playing her thumbs across the wings' design momentarily, she sets the ornate item squarely on my stomach.

She reaches across to my right hand. "You don't mind holding onto this for a little while for me, do you, Bruce?" Her words sound like idle conversation. She doesn't allow even the slightest of hints that she is talking to a corpse.

The weight of sadness is the closest thing I feel to something tangible. _'Of course not, Diana,'_ I try to say, but of course, neither she nor Alfred can hear me.

Diana soon finishes with the circlet, leaving my arms resting at my sides, my forearms crossing towards my stomach, and my hands cradled around the circlet's wings. She turns her attention to the rest of me for a moment, looking me over, avoiding the hole in my chest. She tips her head to the side, reaches towards my utility belt.

Her hands find the single ruined compartment on my belt, the kryptonite I had tried using to defend myself still ensconced within. Diana pries it open with her fingertips, using only the barest of efforts. Surprise colors her face when she sees the second piece of kryptonite.

"Always be prepared... Find a weakness, then strike… Right, Bruce?"

She pulls the kryptonite from my belt, then sets it atop the table by my head. She moves her hand a few inches further and picks up the lead container with the second piece of kryptonite. She opens it and with her right thumb and forefinger, plucks it from its place.

After a quick moment spent turning the kryptonite about in her hand, Diana sets it and the container itself on the table by my head and the other shard. She begins tearing the lead cover apart with her bare hands. Soon, she is left with the majority of the top, its sharp edges all folded up towards the same side.

Diana lifts her left wrist, holding her arm with her palm facing up. She pushes the sheet of lead under her bracelet, creating a small and narrow hollow. She drops one of the kryptonite shards inside before pinching the edge of the lead against the inside of her bracelet to secure it. She picks the second shard up and holds it in her bare right hand.

Solemnly, Diana turns to look at Alfred, not at all surprised to find him standing only a few, respectful feet away. His hands are together before him. He looks like the very model of a modern butler. He's doing well to hide his own pain. _'He must be holding back for Diana's sake.'_

For less than a breath, Diana's smile widens, as if to reassure the old man. She leaves my body and its table behind, heading for the lone transporter pad. She steps up with slow, deliberate steps. She stops on the pad, turns back, faces the cave's normal occupants, and the sad smile on her lips falls the rest of the way down, giving her a frown to match the look in her eyes.

She lifts her right hand to her ear, begins to extend her forefinger towards the communicator, but then stops short. She freezes for a moment, then moves her finger away and focuses on Alfred. "Alfred?"

"Yes, Miss Diana?"

"Would… If I come back…would you mind if I stayed here, in the manor?"

I see joy in Alfred's expression for the first time since I awoke to my non-presence in the middle of my bedroom. "Of course not, Miss Diana. Why, Master Bruce and I would both be honored to have you here."

The corners of Diana's mouth lift up into the faintest of genuine smiles. The emotion doesn't reach her eyes before she closes them. "Thank you, Alfred."

She returns her finger to her ear, pressing it lightly to the communicator. "Mr. Terrific? This is Diana. Is Superman aboard?" A slight pause as she waits for a response. "Good. One for transport."

The spots of light from the transporter flitter into existence around Diana. She meanwhile lowers her arm back to her side, her hand held tightly clenched around the kryptonite hidden in her palm.

"Miss Diana?" Alfred speaks up. Diana opens her eyes, answering him with her gaze. "Take care. And good luck."

The lights finish surrounding her before she can reply. She disappears in a flash of light. My perspective, my consciousness begins to explode and tear. I feel myself being torn asunder. I'm dimly aware of my consciousness, suddenly a stream as it's stretched halfway across the surface of the Earth in its quest to follow Diana into space.

Amidst the growing pain and shock, I see my destination ahead of me in the sky: the Watchtower. The first bits of my consciousness collide with the outer hull of the station and what I perceive as pain increases exponentially. I try to scream to relieve it, but without warning, it ends.

I'm back in my bed in Wayne Manor. My hands dart to my chest, finding a beating heart and a solid chest. I'm very much alive and solid to boot.

I release a bated breath._ 'Not again…'_ I comment to myself tiredly as I turn towards the windows.

I begin to go back over the first dream. When finished, I examine the days since, ensuring that my memory is still in place. Finally, I begin to go over this morning's dream, the vision that just released me from its hold.

While I'm going over Alfred's use of the metal detector, the real Alfred knocks on my door and enters immediately after. "Good morning, Master Bruce!" he exclaims. He stops when he finds me sitting up in bed. "Oh. Well, it's good to see you already up, sir.

"May I remind you that your private jet is ready at Goodwin International. We may depart for Metropolis whenever you are ready, sir. I've taken the liberty of readying your computer to contact Miss Diana before we depart for the airport."

"Thank you, Alfred," I reply as he crosses the room and hands me a small cup of coffee. I drink slowly as I resume my assessment of the second dream.

Eventually, I finish both coffee and assessment, then get out of bed while handing my empty cup back to Alfred. He backs away as I climb out of bed. I, meanwhile, begin going over the dream again, remembering that there was something that caught my interest.

Alfred leaves and I go to my dresser, searching out a complete outfit in the tan of my usual business attire. Each dresser drawer and each closet door I open leaves me with no shortage of choices in my desired color.

I bring a full set to the bathroom and take a brisk shower, drying myself even more quickly on the way out. I get dressed as best I can and am nearly ready to leave, only my untied tie held in my hand as I head for the door.

I get out into the hallway and then it hits me. Alfred used the Batcomputer to compile the data from the imager. I could _read_ every word that appeared on the screen. _'Then that wasn't a dream either! There's something else at play here.'_

I glance back into my bedroom for a moment, eyeing the walls, ceiling, and furniture with suspicion. Nothing seems out of place. _'I'll leave it be for now. If someone's tampered with my room, then tonight will prove it. I should be safe staying in Metropolis.'_

I close the bedroom door and start down the hall. First, I need to get Alfred to fix my tie. Second, I need to head down to the cave to call Diana and ask her to meet me in Metropolis.

"There's some sort of external influence, but who or what?" I consider all that I know for a moment. "It _must_ be related to the gap missing from my memory."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading.


	4. Understanding

**Author's Note:** Again with the longer chapter thing. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

The smile now on my lips must have been infectious. I haven't been able to do anything else since Bruce and I sat down. Not that I've wanted to stop, just that it hasn't escaped my notice.

He leans over what remains of his meal, extending both hands towards me, one on each side of his plate. There is no hesitation when I reach out with my own to meet him near the middle of our small table. He leans closer and I follow suit. His head tips to the side and he closes his eyes while relaxing his lips. I follow along every step of the way.

Our lips meet gently over the middle of the table. The small candle below us, the only thing small enough to fit between our plates, radiates a subtle heat that warms my chin almost as much as my lips from the gentle press of Bruce's.

His head turns more and the angles of our mouths are thrown further out of alignment. Bruce renews our kiss, his lips gliding across mine for a quick moment before I open my own jaw to copy him. He pauses, breaking away from my lips for an instant.

I open my eyes to find him looking back at me. I see his cheeks lift and his eyes shift subtly so they reflect the smile I am sure is present below. I barely get the thought out before he comes back and kisses me again, this time capturing my lower lip between his. He gives it a gentle pull, squeezing with his lips as if trying to massage his captive. I try to match him and hold his upper lip, but he pulls away long enough to thwart my efforts. A moment later, my upper lip is his newest prisoner.

I can't help myself and a giddy giggle escapes me. Bruce pulls away, his smile bright. He straightens a little and I notice his hands, no longer idle below. He rubs my wrists with his fingers. His thumbs alternate between rubbing small arcs on the blades of my hands and small circles on their backs.

We are both silent for a few moments, contenting ourselves to simple contact in the afterglow of such a kiss. "How about another dance?" I suggest.

"Of course."

He wastes no time, pushing his chair back as he stands. As soon as he's on his feet, he leans forward and gives me a quick peck on the lips, his hands never leaving mine. I rise to my feet as well. I have a little trouble, but manage to control my impulses. I'd be tempted to give my chair a strong kick to get it out of my way, but I'm afraid of what or who it might slam into.

His right hand releases my left and we turn together towards the dance floor. Bruce lifts my hand almost to the level of our shoulders, holding it ahead of us as we make our way past the other dancers. He stops in the middle of a sizable clearing, set away from the others' paths.

With a quick turn and a sweep of his left hand, we're both in position and ready. He flashes me a smile and mine widens to answer his silent inquiry. In perfect unison, we take our first steps, our feet carrying us about the space seemingly made for us on the floor.

Our dance slowly grows more energetic. Without warning, Bruce releases my side, pulling my left hand towards the ceiling as he turns. He ducks under our joined hands and escapes the grip of my right as he steps further away.

When our arms are level and the only way he can go further is to let our hands slip apart, he tightens his grip and pulls. His hand guides me into a partial spin as I am drawn closer, my back finally landing against the left side of his chest.

I turn my head to him while we're momentarily still. I notice we're in a good position for a kiss, but before I can move, he starts moving instead. We separate and he guides me into another turn, leaving us facing one another again.

"Once more," I tell him in a soft but urging voice. The tip of my tongue darts out to wet my lips, a none too subtle hint of what I want him to repeat and why.

Bruce's smile broadens, but instead of giving me the intimacy I want, he keeps our feet moving together. He dramatically executes a turn and my heart jumps, but his grip remains firmly in place. He tricks me twice more, pretending to pull me into a spin, but staying with me and only turning us, changing our direction as we continue to dance.

My frustration begins to mount, nearly coming to a head when he finally lets me spin away. He pulls me back just as I want and I let myself lean against him when our bodies collide. I turn my head to my right to look him in the eye while his left hand finds its way to my left hip, pausing for a brief moment before traveling enticingly up my side.

His hand glides onto my shoulder, across it, and then up the side of my neck. A moment more and his hand is on my face, his thumb wrapped behind my ear, the blade of his hand perfectly aligned with the edge of my jaw, and with his fingertips on my cheek just past the corner of my mouth.

He tips his head close, moving in to kiss me. His eyes close and my focus moves to his glorious lips. My mind readies itself for the gift he's about to give and I forget myself for a moment. I refocus and I am just about to close my eyes when he stops as if frozen in time.

I furrow my brow and am torn for a few seconds between asking if something is wrong and taking charge to close the distance between our lips myself. Just before I decide, his eyes flash all the way open. His jaw follows suit and a horrible beep erupts from Bruce's mouth.

It lasts only a second, but after a second moment, it starts again. As Bruce unleashes a horrible series of beeps, I notice a buzzing from all around me. I manage to turn to the other dancers and find them all ramrod straight, but then I notice the men are vibrating in place. One of them tips over and crashes into his dance partner and another couple. The three of them begin falling in different directions like bowling pins, setting off a chain reaction amongst the buzzing men and motionless, nonresponsive women.

I begin to panic._ 'This isn't my Bruce!'_ The unending stream of beeps from him are accompanied by a suddenly iron grip, unbending even as I begin exerting my Amazonian strength to try extricating myself from his arms. The panic fills my mind before quickly giving way to fear.

My focus dances about the room, looking for a way out of this false Bruce's grip. All the while, the buzzing and beeping continue. Suddenly, I stop, a realization dawning on me. _'An alarm!'_

A quick blink and when my eyes flash open, the dance scene and all of its players have vanished. I'm staring up at steel walls and a steel ceiling, the darkness of space visible in the window over my bed. Only the beeping and buzzing continue.

I take a glance down my body for a moment, confused by the feel of my covers against my skin. I see my nudity as if exposed in patches from beneath the twisted forms of my sheet and blanket.

The unending noises from past my head seem to grow more urgent. _'That's not an alarm, it's a call!'_ I lift my gaze while rolling towards the bed's edge, accidentally wrapping my bedcovers further around my legs. The new arrangement ruins my attempt to throw myself out of bed and onto my feet. I fall gracelessly out of bed to land on my hands and knees on the floor.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I lift myself into the air and quickly float towards my nightstand to retrieve the offending device, my League communicator. I quickly pick it up between my thumb and middle finger. I lift it towards my ear while using my index finger to press the primary button and answer the call.

"What?" I ask with annoyance as I push the device into my ear and move my other hand towards the sheet and blanket. _'Ruined a perfectly wonderful dream!'_ I roll onto my back in the air and lean towards my feet while waiting for a response, taking the opportunity to begin freeing myself from my cotton bonds so I can stand on my own.

"Diana?" I stop. It's Bruce. _'My Bruce.'_ There's a tangible relief to the thought. "You don't sound all too happy. I didn't just wake you up, did I?"

I give a sigh. I can forgive the real Bruce for interrupting dream Bruce, but I'm going to force him make it up to me later. "Yes, but don't worry about it, Bruce." I resume my work at freeing my feet.

"Sorry." He falls silent for a few seconds. For some reason, a yawn hits me during the pause. "Hmm. Well, I did hear you were keeping late hours last night."

_'The same thing he said after I spent a night touring Paris with Audrey…'_ I smile, not the least bit because my blanket falls to the floor, dragging my sheet with it a moment later. I pause to stand, then bend over, retrieving the deathtrap of cotton fibers to remake my bed.

"I take it Kal told you?"

"Of course. Though I came up to see if you were aboard."

"How sweet," I joke, knowing he would never have asked specifically if _I_ was aboard when a more generalized inquiry would have accomplished the same thing and avoided inspiring any unwanted attention from the Watchtower staff. "So, what made you call?"

"I agreed to an interview in Metropolis. It's for The Daily Planet."

"The Daily Planet? Isn't that the newspaper…" I pause, a little unsure of which of Superman's names is appropriate to use in this situation.

Bruce, of course, knows where my question would have led. "Yes, but Lois Lane will be the interviewer."

"Lois Lane? The woman Superman was dating?"

"_Was_? I suppose Lois hinted towards that, but… Since when?"

"Hmm. At least a month or so by now. I happened to run into Superman up here on the Watchtower the day they stopped dating.

"Kal and I stopped by the commissary for iced mochas and talked on the way back to our rooms. Well, I got an iced mocha. I don't remember what Kal got, but that's not important.

"He explained that Lois had been rather frustrated by his secrecy. Of course, he told her most everything, but he couldn't bring himself to reveal his secret identity. He said that he was always afraid that the knowledge would endanger her."

Bruce gives a sharp humph over the communicator. "Sounds like a familiar argument to me…"

"Why, yes. I believe you're right, Bruce. You know, if I were to crush a gargoyle's head for every time I've heard that one…"

"_Continuing on!_" The urgency in Bruce's voice gets a good laugh from me in return.

"Right." I give a final chuckle before refocusing. "Well, regardless, Kal said that Lois grew tired of it. She was frustrated by what she felt was a lack of trust and faith on his part. When her frustrations peaked, she told Kal that she wanted to stop for a while. She said that she needed to cool off and could best do so without thinking about whatever existed or could exist between them."

Bruce doesn't waste a moment of silence. "And this went on for over a month?"

"Yes. Kal explained that Lois seemed content with their new arrangement. He's afraid of imposing upon her, so he hasn't pushed the topic. He doesn't let it show often, but their separation still affects him."

"Well, leave it to Superman to put someone else's happiness ahead of his own." Bruce gives a short laugh. "Going back a topic, Diana, I wanted to let you know about the interview and let you know that Lois asked for you to come as well."

A chance to go out with Bruce? "Of course, Bruce. But on one condition: I want the rest of the day to be for us." I hold my breath for a moment, trying to keep my breathing from giving away how hopeful I am.

"Sure. Just don't tell Superman what we're going to be doing today."

I blink in surprise. "Why not?"

"I...don't want all four of us in that same room just yet. If you'd like, I'll explain when I see you."

"Alright... Should I come down to Gotham now and meet you?"

"No. You just woke up, didn't you? Go ahead and take your time getting ready and having something to eat." Bruce pauses, but I wait and let him continue.

"Alfred and I are taking the private jet. I'll give you a call when we land in Metropolis and you can meet me at the airport then."

"Alright. I'll see you soon, Bruce."

"See you soon, Diana."

His farewell sounds incomplete. _'For that matter, so did mine...'_ I speak up again while the channel is still open. "Bruce?"

"Yes?" he asks with genuine interest.

"I love you." The words are out of my mouth almost before I complete the thought. They are such simple words, but with so profound a meaning. After so long in pursuit of this man, I have no doubt that I mean them from the bottom of my heart, but in the same stroke, they are a prompt for Bruce. Now, so far removed from our first moment of passion, they are a test of how far I have managed to draw the lonely bat from his cave.

I doubt my decision the moment the words pass between my lips. _'Is it too soon to say love so casually? He has always tried to dodge the topic. Am I pushing my luck too early?'_

Bruce's silence seems to stretch on forever. A mix of worry and embarrassment begin to wash slowly over me. I begin to expect the worst. _'He's going to just hang up without saying anything...'_

Depression and disappointment begin to settle in, until finally I hear a very faint voice from Bruce's end. "I advise you to stop blushing and answer, Master Bruce." Alfred, no doubt about that. I take a turn at blushing, unaware that Alfred had been listening to our conversation.

It takes a few seconds more for Bruce to compose himself. Finally, I get my answer. "I love you, too, Princess."

My heart swells larger in my chest with each of Bruce's heartfelt words. Its beating stops long enough for me to feel lightheaded. Some piece of logic in the back of my mind is screaming that the lightheadedness is a bad sign, but another part of my mind simply attributes the sensation to elation. The voice of logic is largely drowned out.

Fortunately, Bruce cuts the line. The sudden lack of extra sound shocks me back to my surroundings. My heart resumes its rhythm, albeit a little faster than normal. There's certainly no question as to why. For a short time, I am still, waiting for my heart to calm.

Finally, I turn with purpose towards the bureau near my bed. _'A day on the town with Bruce…' _It occurs to me to wear something casual, so I begin going through the drawers for the makings of one of my favored civilian outfits.

The first thing I pull out is a set of underwear. The matching set of white goes on my bed. The next item I retrieve is a pair of white pants. Even after a couple years, the name "metro trousers" means little to me. They had appealed to me for the cut and fit, not the brand or style name. I set the carefully folded pants on the edge of my bed.

Following the pants to be pulled from my bureau is a short-sleeved, half-tee undershirt, colored in a white to match my pants. This last item in white goes beside the pants on my bed. After the shirt, I move to the closet. At the opposite end of my closet from my dresses and formal attire are a few casual items. Hanging from a hook in the wall is a black belt. I wrap it around itself a few times and toss it towards the bed. The last item I retrieve is a cropped jacket. It's blue, a few shades darker than my eyes, it has long sleeves to hide my bracelets, and is made of denim, perhaps one of the most ubiquitous types of cotton-based fabric in all of Man's World.

Leaving my clothing to wait on my bed for me, I duck into the bathroom for a shower. I take the time to meticulously clean myself. It's for all the usual reasons, but I have an extra reason today; a part of me hopes Lois will have someone take a photograph of me with Bruce.

After a short while spent drying myself off, I head back out into my bedroom to dress. I lift my bracelets from atop my bureau, the only piece of my armor I plan to wear. As I put my clothing on, the idea of having a photograph taken of Bruce and I returns to my thoughts. _'It would certainly be nice to have one taken. Having a copy here would add a new and welcome personal touch to my room. It might be good for both of us, too. Photographic proof of us as a couple would help rid each of us of our more...hopeful admirers.'_ Of course, I'm thinking more about Bruce's admirers than any I might have.

When I am fully dressed, I fetch one last item, an accessory to complete my outfit. I return to my bureau and open the long but small, store-bought box atop it. I reach in and grab the gold chain of my pendant necklace. As I lift it out, the tip of the ruby scrapes along the bottom packaging before finally coming free and swinging below my hand.

With a careful grip, I unclasp the necklace chain. I lift the ends to my neck and reconnect them behind it. The chain in place, I bring my left hand back around to the pendant, centering it, letting it hang just below the dip of my collarbone.

While adjusting the pendant, I return for a moment to the bathroom. I close the door to give myself an appraising look in the full-length mirror on the inside of the door. After a moment, I give myself an approving smile, then reopen the door and leave my room behind.

_'I'm not sure how much time I have left. I hope I'll have enough time to eat.'_ Bruce has access to some of the best technology on the planet. The Batwing is certainly outfitted with top-of-the-line equipment. The Javelins are as well, but something tells me he designed them to be a step behind the Batwing's performance. The same probably goes for his private jet.

All the same, Gotham and Metropolis aren't entirely too far apart. _'I might end up only grabbing a quick bite to go from the commissary,' _I predict before stepping onto the elevator.

After a short trip on the elevator and a few minutes navigating hallways, I reach the commissary. My casual dress attracts a lot of attention, but most of my colleagues and the Watchtower staff return to their own business soon after. Noting a few of the faces that follow me, I make my way through the sea of tables and into the kitchen.

My first priority is the greatest concoction in all of Man's World, an iced mocha. A few of us in the League—and especially the founding members—have well-known preferences for food and drink. For months, the kitchen staff have been anticipating our wants, preparing food for us before we arrive to keep us from waiting. I count myself among those so appeased.

I exchange pleasantries with a young staffer named Susan. She hands me my iced mocha for the morning. Susan, when she first arrived a month and a half ago, was already so star struck to see me walk up to her station that when Superman and Flash approached, she had dropped my drink. It was probably a good thing Bruce hadn't been there to see it, but I wasn't angry. Saddened by the waste, of course, but mostly sympathetic to the poor girl's embarrassing mishap.

I turn away after bidding her farewell, then move to another counter, a self-serve station with tray after tray of assorted breakfast foods, the makings of any number of international meals, many kept ready by heating lamps hanging overhead.

Sure that Bruce would call the moment I finish making anything involved enough to require additional cooking, I grab a few slices of bread and butter them. I put them on the small plate I grabbed on my way into the kitchen and pick it and my mocha back up, returning to the tables to sit down.

The breakfast crowd is present in full force. None of the tables are empty and most are occupied by small groups of close friends or partners. There is one lone Leaguer sitting at a table, Shayera Hol. Our mission in Tartarus had done a lot to mend our friendship, but sometimes doubts and issues of trust have persisted. Not necessarily between she and I, but with the founders as a whole. She hadn't been included in Doomsday's trial, despite being involved in our meetings about CADMUS itself before and since.

It's just as well that she wasn't there, though. Aside from J'onn, the rest of us had merely been present for the monster's trial. Revisiting the conversation in private, it dawned on me that Bruce's warning to Kal had been correct. He had acted as judge, jury, and executioner in sending Doomsday to the Phantom Zone. It was too dangerous, too obsessed with killing Kal to have left it anywhere it might escape from, but I don't know what other choices we had but to banish it or kill it.

With the conclusion of the thoughts, I come to a stop beside Shayera, pausing for a moment, letting her interpret my intent. She picks it up quickly. "Diana."

"Shayera," I reply as I sit opposite her at the table.

"Dressed for a day about town, I see. Where to?"

"Metropolis." I lift a slice of bread and begin eating it from one corner.

"Metropolis? Why not Gotham? I thought things were finally starting to get serious."

I switch, lowering my bread and taking a quick sip of my mocha. "No, you're right. I'm meeting Bruce in Metropolis. He's flying there now. He should be calling from the airport before long."

"I see. So, have the two of you been together for long? I only heard about it from the buzz in all the gossip rags." Shayera pauses, leaning back and shaking her head while looking towards the ceiling. "You'd be surprised who reads that crap and who I've heard about it from."

"No," I answer as she finishes her side-comment. "That was our first date." I pause, taking a few more bites of my bread. "Why do you say that, though? Who told you about it?"

"You know, I get a lot of candid questions about the seven of us."

She would get them for good reason. Her status while this second Watchtower was being constructed left any sort of accommodations for her out of the blueprints. Her readmittance into the League had left her with one of the regular rooms on a regular floor, despite eventually earning her status as a founder back. In a way, her situation had left her as something of an ambassador for the seven founders to the rest of the League. Questions, suggestions, and complaints meant for the whole of the founders' council usually find their way to us through Shayera.

"It only took a couple hours after the news hit for it to reach the Watchtower. I think some staffers brought the news up on a shift change. A few people have caught me to ask about it since. Steel, for one. Question asked as well, but he was more interested in the restaurant you ate at. Arrow, too. He mentioned hearing something about it from Black Canary."

"I guess news travels fast."

"When the Princess of the man-hating Amazons falls in love with a man, it's big news. When a womanizing playboy billionaire starts to settle down with just one woman, it's big news. Put the two together and you just might keep Superman off the front page until Darkseid comes back again to invade Earth."

"Don't jinx it," I reply before we share a good, hearty laugh. When we quiet, we return to our meals. Shayera finishes the last of her croissant roll and I finish off my first slice of bread. I begin eating my second slice while she slides her plate away, giving herself room to rest her forearms against the table, her coffee cup held between her palms.

I open my mouth to ask her about John. Before I can form words, there is a quick beep in my ear. I pause as I bring my right hand up to answer. "This is Wonder Woman. Go ahead." No one else around me is being called. It's a sure bet that it's Bruce calling, but better to be safe than embarrass myself assuming anything.

"Diana, it's me." Bruce, as I hoped. "We just finished taxiing. Alfred is getting a rental and left me to wait with the jet."

"Alright, Bruce. I'll be in Metropolis in a few minutes. See you soon."

"Until then, Princess."

Another beep and Bruce closes the channel. I look over at Shayera. There is a wry smile on her lips that puts me on the defensive. "What?"

"Listening to you, he seems about as warm without the tights as with them."

"He's very affectionate!" I defend, "He's just…it means more to me when I have to work a little more to hear it from him."

I stand to leave, but Shayera laughs before she keeps talking. "I think you've worked hard enough. For as long you've been trying to get his attention, he should be following you up and down the halls shouting it for all the world to hear as you walk."

I stop, looking askance to her for a moment. _'Bruce wouldn't be Bruce if he did something like that.'_

"Relax, Diana," Shayera tells me, trying to suppress laughter. She was joking. "Go. Have fun today. I'm sure I'll be hearing about it soon."

"Yes. I'm sure you will as well." I smile. _'She certainly will hear. Whatever comes from Lois's interview will probably make it all around the Watchtower by the end of the week.'_ I have to admit a bit of nervousness about that, but at the same time, there's a small part of me excitedly anxious about the prospect of such public and open recognition from Bruce.

I turn, waving a farewell to Shayera with my right hand and about the half slice of bread still pinched between my thumb and forefinger. As I leave the commissary, I quickly finish the rest of the bread before washing it down with a few sips of my iced mocha.

By the time I reach the transporter deck, I have only half of my mocha left. I walk over to the control technician's station with a bright smile on my face. "Metropolis International Airport, please."

"Coming right up, Wonder Woman."

I thank the technician and approach the transporter pads. The pads hum to life as I step up onto them. A few flashes of light before the Watchtower disappears, its sights and sounds replaced by the roof of a terminal building at the airport.

I take a moment to look around. I see plenty of airplanes, both taxiing and parked, but I can't see Bruce. I don't see anything to distinguish his jet from the others either. Flying around aimlessly won't help me find him. I lift my hand again to my communicator.

"Bruce. I'm down. Looks like I'm on the top of one of the terminal buildings." I pause a moment, checking behind me. "It looks like the main terminal. The parking loop is behind me."

"Good timing. Alfred just pulled up." A short pause. "We're to your east. Follow the runway. I'll have Alfred hit the horn if we see you first. Three short beeps, Princess."

"Got it," I reply while lifting myself into the air.

After turning east, I fly parallel to the runway. I pass over plane after plane, the terminal buildings extending out alongside them. When I am nearing the end of the line, I finally hear it, the three quick F notes I've been waiting for. It only surprises me to hear them coming from behind me.

I turn around in mid-air and look back to see Bruce. Beside him is the limo, Alfred just stepping out to stand next to him. Behind the limo is the private jet. I take a momentary look at the plane while dropping down towards them. I must have been looking the other way while passing overhead, the Wayne Enterprises logo is very clear on the jet's tail.

"It's good to see you again, Miss Diana," Alfred greets the moment my feet are on the ground.

"Thank you, Alfred. I'm glad to see you again so soon as well." I turn from Alfred. "Good morning, Bruce."

"Diana. Good morning. Shall we?" He and Alfred are all smiles as Bruce opens the door for me, stepping out of the way towards the rear of the rental vehicle. As he steps aside, Alfred turns, gripping the door with one hand and again offering me his other one to help me into the car.

Once more, I cannot bring myself to disappoint Alfred. I let him guide me into the car and slide to the passenger side, giving Bruce room to sit beside me. I watch as the pattern from our date plays the rest of the way out, Bruce sitting down, Alfred closing the rear door before finally getting back in himself.

We quickly leave the airport. Once we're on the road, I turn to Bruce. "So, Bruce, do you come here very often?"

"No. There's little reason for me to. I've had a few business dealings that have brought me to town. I've had to chase a few of Arkham's finest here as well, but generally, I stick to Gotham. Business brings me all over the world, though."

"So why didn't you want me to tell Superman I was coming to Metropolis with you?"

"Because Lois would kill me if I let anyone else in on her byline."

"Are bylines that important?"

"They are to reporters." He gives a smirk and I reply with an understanding smile, sure he is talking about Kal.

The friction between Bruce and Kal had always been a little amusing to me. Their crime fighting methods are in so many ways opposite, yet both men are equally effective in their hometowns. Kal has had no trouble adapting his methods to fighting on a global scale, but Bruce has had no shortage of luck in the same regard. Our mission together through Paris and Kasnia is only one of many pieces of evidence lending to that.

"Any idea what Lois will ask us about?"

"Aside from _us_?" Bruce asks. I nod. "No idea. She'll probably ask me a little about Wayne Enterprises or some charity I've donated to recently and ask you about the League."

"Anything I should avoid?"

"Batman and me or Batman and Gotham in the same sentence, if at all possible. Reporters like to record their interviews for reference."

"Alright." I think for a moment. An idea comes to me. I look to Alfred in the front seat. "On one condition," I tell Bruce with an almost toothless grin.

Bruce's expression shifts, becoming a little apprehensive. "What?"

My grin fades as I glance back towards the front seat, seeing that Alfred is as perceptive as I expected, the opaque dividing window is nearly closed. I turn in my seat, swinging my knees closer to Bruce's and turning my upper body to face him. I lean closer and put my right hand on his thigh just above his knee. I tip my head a bit to my right, then loosen my jaw just enough for my lips to part, barely enough to be suggestive.

Bruce catches on immediately. His lips broaden into a wide smile of understanding as he begins leaning to meet me over the middle of the seat. His right hand cups the left side of my jaw just moments before he presses his lips to mine. He slides his hand further back, his fingers weaving their way into my hair as our kiss grows quickly more passionate.

I work to match what feels like a hunger on Bruce's lips even as I feel his left hand on the back of my right, itself now tightly gripping his thigh. His hand travels up onto my sleeve, gliding over the fabric with just enough pressure so I am always aware of its progress. Finally, he reaches my shoulder and his hand settles there. As if to answer the movement, I pull my left arm from its place between the seat and my side, then lift it to Bruce's shoulder. I rest my hand atop it, then slide it closer to his neck, climbing first my thumb, then my index, middle, and ring fingers up its side.

Our lips move nearly in unison. I can't help but notice that Bruce is leading, but I likewise can't bring myself to see anything wrong with that. I feel his jaw opening slightly and I follow suit. A moment later, he tips his head to his left until the sides of our noses are pressed together. Our lips almost level, Bruce closes his mouth quickly, but a moment before he closes his lips over my upper lip, I feel something else with its own distinct texture and flavor against the underside of my lip. The sensation shocks me for a moment. The lightness floating about my mind from our kiss spreads at the sensation, moving faster when he gently pulls at my lip. When he draws the object beneath my lip away and replaces it with the familiar feel of his lower lip, I finally figure it out. It was his tongue.

_'I had no idea a tongue could be used like that,'_ I think to myself. As Bruce switches to take my lower lip, I consider what I can do in return. The moment he gives a little tug, an idea comes to me. Quickly, I reach towards his upper lip with the tip of my tongue, giving his lip a playful flick right in the middle before running the soft tip back and forth along the tiny crevice between the underside of his upper lip and the top of my lower lip.

When I pull my tongue back, Bruce gives my lip a gentle squeeze before pulling away and opening his eyes. I look to him as well while thinking about the little taste I just got of his lip. The surprise is clear all across his expression. My lips spread into a self-satisfied smile.

"Don't tell me I caught the Detective off guard…" I jest in an almost sultry tone.

He flashes me a quick grin. "No comment."

He begins to close his eyes and lean closer when the car rocks forward and comes to a stop. I've noticed the sensation a couple times before, but this stop feels a little more exaggerated, more telling. I see that Bruce noticed as well. I can't help the sensation of loss when he pulls his right hand from my face, his fingers gradually pulling away from my hair.

The car shifts a moment later. Alfred is getting out. I see part of his body come into view through the window in the door on Bruce's side of the car. We must have arrived at the Daily Planet. Either that or a meteorite was landing nearby and we needed to get out of the car now. _'No, he would have stopped the car more abruptly if that were the case.'_

Alfred opens the door after a moment, pausing to give us the chance to untangle our arms. "Here we are, sir, ma'am. The Daily Planet."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce replies as he climbs out ahead of me. I have to admit to myself that I'm a little annoyed that we didn't have more time in the car, but Bruce's tone doesn't give me any evidence that he is thinking anything similar. In the same stroke, I realize it was inevitable. We couldn't expect to have long. _I_ shouldn't have expected to have longer.

I slide across the seats after Bruce. Once again, I let Bruce's surrogate father help me to my feet. When I am on my feet and away from the car door, Bruce steps up on my left side and hooks his right arm around my left. Alfred closes the door behind us and turns to Bruce for a moment, waiting to see if his charge has any special instructions.

"I'm not sure how long we'll be here, but we'll be about town after the interview. I don't think I'll need a change of clothing today, Alfred. Go ahead and check in at the Metropolis Grande Hotel. Relax, indulge yourself as much as you would like. I'll give you a call if anything happens or we need to be picked up."

"Very good, sir," Alfred replies. His expression barely changes, but I notice a slight lift in the corners of his mouth. "I shall consider it a vacation, Master Bruce."

"As I intended it. We'll see you this evening, Alfred."

"Then I shan't keep you any longer. Enjoy your day, Master Bruce, Miss Diana."

"Thank you, Alfred. To you as well," I reply once Bruce has replied with an appreciative nod.

As Alfred gets back into the rented vehicle, Bruce and I turn towards the array of glass doors that make up the main entrance to the Daily Planet building. I look up to the top of the building, see the edge of the giant globe that makes the newspaper headquarters so iconic. It's an impressive sight even from the ground.

Bruce pulls me from my reverie with a simple question. "Shall we, Princess?"

I turn my head to him, nod as a small wave of embarrassment washes over me. I'm happy that it passes quickly, after only a few steps towards the doors, replaced again by the sense of normalcy, the sensation of belonging akin to what I felt in Gotham. I relax and look around, but that's when I start to notice the looks people are giving us. Many of the men coming out of the building and walking by in both directions on the sidewalk leer at me. Their gaze shifts to Bruce and a few shake their heads before averting their gaze. Some keep staring.

I look to the women and see something similar. Most of the women spot Bruce, a select few nearly swooning over the sight of him. I see flashes of recognition in some of their eyes. In each case, it isn't long after that the women turn to me with an appraising glance. Many turn away, hopes dashed. Too few. Anger flashes across many more faces. Too many are touched by jealousy.

The sight is disappointing. Angering. _'Is this what the society of Man's World makes women do to one another?'_ It's contemptible.

Bruce leads me in the doors even as I seethe. The grand, open lobby does not impress me as my thoughts stew. The elevator ride goes by nearly unnoticed as my anger fades, replaced by various trains of thought, all looking for the same end, a solution—or at least something to try.

Bruce is leading me across a floor when I come fully back to my surroundings. We eventually wade into a grid of desks, seating easily more than a few dozen reporters. We come to a stop bedside a woman typing furiously at her workstation. _'This must be Lois Lane,'_ I say to myself while noticing her hair is very much like my own.

She notices Bruce's shadow on the corner of the desk. "Is that you, Smallville? Thought you were going back to Kansas for the day."

_'Smallville? Isn't that the town Kal said he grew up in?'_

"He did, I'm sure," Bruce answers. It isn't a total lie. Kal had taken the morning off because of an unexpected change in the monitor duty schedule. The later afternoon and evening he was planning to spend at home visiting his family.

Lois begins turning towards us. "What do you—Oh! Bruce! What a surprise! You're here earlier than I was expecting. Wonder Woman, I'm glad you could come, too."

"Please, call me Diana." I extend my right hand for a polite handshake. She reaches out to take it after a moment. "It's wonderful to finally meet you, Miss Lane. I've heard a lot about you from Superman."

She gives a little grimace, freezing up for a moment. "Nothing _too_ unflattering of late, I hope." Her expression is pleading, trusting me not to reply too bluntly if she's right.

"No, of course not. He always speaks very highly of you, Miss Lane."

Lois visibly relaxes. "Glad to hear it, but please, just 'Lois' is fine. I have to say, in all the years I've known Superman, I'm surprised I've never met you before. Then again, I haven't met many of you superhero types. You don't frequent the Metro Tower, do you?"

"No, I spend most of my time outside of missions aboard the Watchtower."

I feel a squeeze on my left hand. I turn down to notice that sometime in our walk through the building, Bruce had unhooked our arms in favor of simply holding my hand. I look up to his face just before he clears his throat loudly and speaks. "Not to sound uncomfortable, ladies, but perhaps there's a better place to conduct our interview."

"Yeah. Let me just get a pad and my recorder." Lois turns back to her desk and turns her computer monitor off with one hand while pulling her notepad and a pen to the front edge of her desk. With both hands, she then moves a large notebook aside to reveal the tape recorder beneath it. She picks the three items up and stands.

Turning to the two of us, Lois motions to her right with her thumb. "Alright. We can use one of the conference rooms."

Lois leads us the rest of the way across the room. Ahead of us is an array of half a dozen doors. They all appear to be for conference rooms. Four of them are occupied, with a fifth and sixth free, their doors slightly ajar.

Lois opens one of the doors and steps aside to let us through. "Go ahead and pick a side," she tells us. Bruce points to the middle two of the four chairs on the far side of the conference table in the center of the rectangular room. I can't help but notice that the side he picked has us facing the windows and with only a few short feet between where we will sit and the wall. _'So we—or rather he—can watch the room's sole exit.'_

As Bruce follows me to a seat and sits to my left, Lois sets her things down on the opposite side of the conference table and then sits down. I turn to Bruce and see him casting a look of assessment around the room.

Lois sits down and I ask a question that's been on my mind for a while now. "So, Lois, what sort of things are you looking to ask us?"

She pauses for a moment and folds her arms with her elbows on the table. "Well, I read in the Gotham Globe, the Gotham Times, the Gotham Star, and even saw on Gotham Insider that Bruce here had been seen on a date that had nothing to do with a charity or any other sort of public event. Of course, the most newsworthy bit of news was that his date was Wonder Woman. I called to see if I get the first interview for the Daily Planet."

Curiosity nags at me. "How do you know Bruce?"

The subject of our little back and forth conversation stiffens beside me. "We met way back before there was even a Justice League. Bruce came to Metropolis to oversee progress on a business deal between Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp."

"LexCorp? You were doing business with Luthor?" The mere notion seems ludicrous.

"The deal was legitimate. Our research teams collaborated to design and build an unmanned explorer," Bruce defends. "It was meant to revolutionize unmanned space exploration, but I suspected Luthor would try to go behind my back on it from the outset, so I built it into the contract so that all technology applications required my preapproval."

"Yeah, well, that didn't stop Luthor and the Joker from weaponizing them..." Lois says with contempt.

"The Joker was here, too?" The news quells any questions I had about Bruce's sense over dealing with Luthor. _'He probably only came to Metropolis to chase after Joker.'_ I refrain from asking Bruce to confirm that detail with Lois here.

"Yeah. Probably would have killed Superman if not for some timely intervention from the Batman." There's an edge of scorn to Lois's tone at the name. "Now, we've delayed long enough. Let's go ahead and get started."

Bruce relaxes in tone and posture when Lois presses the record button on the tape recorder. "So, Miss Lane, what would you like to know?" he asks for the recorder, his tone a flippancy to match his public persona.

"Well, I have a few questions for you. We'll start with the easy questions and see where the conversation goes. If you haven't answered everything by the end, I'll run through what's left. Now, first up: are the rumors true, are the two of you seeing each other?"

Bruce turns to me with a smile. He does a small circular motion in the air with his fingers, offering me free reign to answer. "Yes, though since only very recently."

"You were spotted at an Italian restaurant in Gotham just a few evenings ago. Is it safe to assume that was your first public date?"

"Yes," I reply again, "In fact, it was our first date."

"Oh, really? Sources tell me you arrived and left sharing a car. So, then, where did you meet?"

"We met at Wayne Manor and said our farewells for the evening there as well." Lois lifts an eyebrow. Clearly Bruce did not give her the answer she was looking for.

I take my turn. "I first met Bruce at an event in Paris a few years ago. He pulled me aside for a dance, but we were…interrupted."

"Yeah, I remember that one. Kasnian separatists trying to kidnap the princess, right?" I nod in response and Lois continues, "If I remember right, you and Batman ended up chasing them all the way to Kasnia. You lit off some pretty big fireworks that day. Heard you crashed the princess's wedding to Vandal Savage III with a tank." Again there's something pointed about the way she says 'Batman.'

"Not 'the third.' He was the original Savage. He's an immortal, power-crazed despot waiting for another chance to rule."

I'm about to tell Lois that the League has kept a special eye on Savage ever since, but Bruce cuts in before I can get any more angry about him. "Before Diana thwarted the kidnapping, we promised to finish our dance." I nearly laugh at that. "It was only recently that we contacted one another about it. I invited her to dinner at Gotham Delizioso and the rest seems to be a matter of public record." At least that part is true.

"I take it you took the opportunity to finish the dance." It's not quite a question. She doesn't give us the time to answer either way. She leans forward, quickly reaching for the recorder's pause button. "Ok, I can't do this any longer. Diana, how could you ever put up with him _at night_?"

The emphasis tips me off and everything clicks in my mind. _'She knows! How could she know?'_ I turn to give Bruce an incredulous look. He must have let it happen somehow.

"Yes," he groans in knowing reply to me, leaning forward and resting his forehead in his palm. Bruce reaches into his pocket for a moment with his other hand.

"I caught Joker by the docks. He set a Wayne-Lex T-7 prototype after me and it chased me across Metropolis. I ended up in the Daily Planet building and Lois was in the office. I took her down a few floors and we ended up ducking into a printing room. The T-7 forced me back and my cape caught between the rollers of one of the presses."

Now I understand why Lois knows, but it still leaves her choice of words in question. I feel an odd sense of worry in the pit of my stomach. "What did you mean?" I ask Lois.

She shrinks at the question, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her stomach. "We…dated while Bruce was in town," she admits, looking at the table as she speaks.

Pain erupts in my gut as I whip my head around to look Bruce in the eye. A mix of anger and jealousy take root in my heart. In my head, a small part of me wants to laugh that Bruce beat Kal to dating Lois. Most of me wants to know—wants to demand that Bruce tell me why he hadn't told me beforehand. _'Did he want me to find out like this?'_

Lois sighs before looking up. I'm glad for the reason to look away from Bruce, but the alternative suddenly isn't any much better. "I ended it after I found out. There have always been a lot of bad rumors about Bruce and about Gotham's crime and…shadows. I couldn't bring myself to be any more involved than I already was. Even that was too much."

She spends a short time mulling over the words. "The understanding and willingness to accept it all must come easier with colleagues," she says dejectedly.

I almost snort trying to hold back laughter. The explanation relieved a lot of my worries and my anger, but the last comment is nearly too ironic. I turn to Bruce and the laughter escapes me at the sight of his confusion.

"Are you kidding, Lois? Bruce, let me know if any of this sounds familiar." Lois looks up from the table and Bruce starts to shake his head in warning disapproval. I lower my voice, trying to imitate his. "One: dating within the team always leads to disaster."

"Diana."

I laugh at Bruce again. "Alright, sure. I've had my fun. There were two more, but I'll stop there." I turn back to Lois with the smile still on my face.

She tries to smile back, but it seems a little dry. "Well, I'm glad to see you worked it out." If I didn't know better, I'd say there was a hint of envy in her voice.

I try to analyze her tone for a moment. _'She must regret leaving Kal.'_

Bruce then cuts in again, "Sorry, Lois, but would you like to continue the interview?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry to spring that on you, Diana. I just had to ask."

I pause before answering. "It's fine. I understand."

She presses the pause button to resume the recording. "So, how far do you see your relationship going?" There's a touch of need to her question.

Bruce beats me to an answer, once more speaking in the lighter tones of his public self. "Not quite sure. We'll have to see how things go after today. We're going to spend the rest of the day together after this. I've never really taken the time to sightsee in Metropolis and thought that Diana and I could have some fun doing it together."

Lois takes a few notes, checking off a question at the top of her notepad page and flipping to the next one. "Alright, Diana, here's one for you: how is this news going to go over back home?"

I stop, sitting straight in my chair for a moment as my mind replays Lois's question, wishing it were something else. I've been avoiding having Mother, my sisters, and Bruce in the same train of thought for a long time. What I want with Bruce generally ignores my past. I hesitate for a few moments even after opening my mouth to answer, but I still feel compelled to answer truthfully. "I…don't think Mother will approve."

I reach over towards Bruce beneath the table. My hand finds his and I take it, letting our fingers interlock before he gives my hands a squeeze. "But it is my decision to make and I will not change my mind," I add in a firm voice. _'I only hope Mother can be understanding.'_

* * *

******Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading._  
_


	5. Eyes

**Author's Note:** Well, managed to keep the length under better control. Please enjoy. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

A sudden realization. _'I haven't thought this in months…'_ I pause, closing my eyes for a little longer than necessary. When I open them, the crosswalk across from us still hasn't changed.

Normally, I only have these thoughts all at once, each year on the anniversary of the day I stopped living life for myself. Every year I allow myself a moment to remember how tired I am, to remember that I once led a normal life. In my greatest moments of weakness, I've even told myself that the war will go on just the same with or without me.

Now, here I am, in the middle of Metropolis, wondering once more if it's worth it to keep fighting. Usually, it's a matter of effectiveness, a problem of the revolving doors that see the justice system releasing those I lock away so quickly after capture. Only once before have I come this close to abandoning the mission for the sake of my own happiness. At the time, I had no idea what I was truly embarking upon when I almost gave up everything for Andrea Beaumont.

The children who made their way to me over the years have found purpose in my war. I gave two young men the guidance and tools necessary to help me mend the city that stole parents from each of us. I gave a young woman the training to protect her father and the city she loves.

But how much longer must _I_ keep fighting? Do I stop when my body gives out? Do I find ways to push on, even then? Do I hold back, endeavoring to survive the war? Do I ensure the mission continues on as a philanthropic campaign?

I take special note of the warm hand affectionately holding my own. I give it a quick squeeze before rubbing my thumb against its back. I look down to our joined hands, then glance to my right, looking up to face the Princess of the Amazons.

Diana turns from the crosswalk signal, gifts me with a beautiful smile and copies my action, rubbing her thumb against my hand. I smile, once more imagining the tender scenes of a future with this woman, with this happiness and satisfaction as constants in my life. The thought is enthralling.

The realization that the Batman might not live long enough for Bruce Wayne to see old age is suddenly a more difficult pill to swallow. More and more, I want Diana for myself—to be the one person in the world she shares her heart with and her, the one person I share mine with, both for my own happiness and for hers. The idea of dying as Batman while loving Diana is gut-wrenching. I know better than most what it feels like for murder to steal a loved one. How can I make Diana shoulder that pain if I become a casualty of my own war?

_'How ironic that the one woman I am now willing to give up being Batman for is also the one woman who would never ask me to make that choice.'_ I turn to Diana, as if she had heard my thoughts, as if she might have advice for me. I can't even imagine her suggesting my retirement until my mind can no longer compensate for my body's age.

Still, how would I ever give it up? I haven't thought of myself as Bruce Wayne in years. My parents were Waynes. I _was_ a Wayne. Now, the Bruce Wayne the world sees is a shell, an apparition waiting for the opportunity or necessity to transform back into the Batman. _'And I await the time when the city of Gotham no longer needs my flavor of protection, the day when I can finally shed the mantle and be Bruce Wayne once and for all.'_

The crowd begins to move, surging forward as the signal finally lets us cross. Diana takes her first step a moment before me. Luckily, she doesn't make a note of my delay.

_'Maybe it's the atmosphere...'_ Metropolis is so different from Gotham. It's cleaner and brighter, as if to hide evidence of Superman's personal war. They fear wanton destruction here, not unpredictable lunacy. These people look to the sky for rescue, not the shadows. Maybe the ambiance here is what's making me want change.

_'No! That's naive.'_ It's Diana who is making me think like this. My stated reasons against us resurface in my mind. This is what I was wary of, my heart compromising the mission. I need to let go. I need to step back, control myself, and take command of the situation. I need to reaffirm the mission and remember what I am, what I need to be for my city.

Even as the thoughts run through my mind, even as I tell myself to, I can't bring myself to release Diana's hand. If anything, my muscles lock into place, gripping her more firmly, but no more tightly.

Her free arm crosses in front of my chest and she points past me to my left. "How about a quick stop in there, Bruce?"

I barely look for longer than it takes to know she pointed out a coffee shop. "Sure." I'm all smiles when I turn back to her, my train of objecting thoughts halted the moment Diana plants her hopeful, eager smile in my mind.

We enter the little hole in the wall shop. I miss the name on the way inside. My focus is on Diana, my thoughts even when not my gaze.

We join the short line for the register and only have to wait for a middle-aged man and a young couple ahead of us. Before I know it, I'm trading a few dollars for an espresso and the iced mocha Diana is already beside me taking the first sip of. I pocket my change the moment the cashier drops it into my palm, then turn to Diana. She flashes me a bright, appreciative smile that's all the thanks I could want and we move out of the way for the next customer in line.

The shop is populated by tiny, round tables along the windows and a large handful of old-fashioned booths in the middle of the room. We take one of the empty tables, setting our cups down on its nearly two foot surface.

A short silence settles over us once we seat ourselves. "So, Bruce," Diana soon begins, turning to look out the window, "what do you think of it here?" I can see the curiosity in her eyes, in the light smile on her lips.

The question catches me by surprise. "You mean in Metropolis?" She nods, still looking outside. I turn to join her, looking out at the passersby. The people walking by seem to have not a worry in the world. Superman will protect them, they know it. Even in his absence, they feel secure with the knowledge that he will protect them. "I wish I could make Gotham feel like here." It's almost a whisper, but Diana has no trouble hearing.

Her reaction surprises me more than her initial question. She whips her head back to look at me, straightening in her chair at the same time. Her sudden movement yanks my attention back from the window. She's looking at me like I just struck her face with a wet fish.

"Don't!" she finally exclaims, lifting her hands to tightly grip the table's edge.

"What do you mean?" My tone comes off more accusatory than I intended. _'Does she hope the people of Gotham will never know safety? That my war will never end?'_

"Gotham doesn't need this. It's perfect the way it is." My expression hardens. Diana lifts a hand to keep me from interrupting. "I want to see crime in Gotham snuffed out as much as you, but...Gotham has a different life to it than Metropolis. A different allure. A different beauty."

I try to consider her meaning. Diana doesn't give me long to try before continuing. "The other night, on the way to Gotham Delizioso, I spent the whole time looking out the window at the scenery and the city. I had never really _seen_ Gotham before, not from the ground, not the way its people see it every day. Everywhere I looked, the people of Gotham seem so...vivacious. More so than I would have ever expected."

My expression softens at Diana's words. She almost seems to mean that I'm winning my war. I extend my free hand towards her. She takes it without hesitation.

Hearing her perspective, I can't help but think she's right. Gotham's elite certainly hold enough functions and parties for Bruce Wayne to stay in the public eye. They are predominantly happy affairs. Veronica Vreeland even used Penguin as a rather awkward party attraction. They seemed happy about it until he turned on them.

Aside from the elite, my time spent undercover as Gaff Morgan, Matches Malone, and my other personalities has introduced me to well-to-do people in all levels of Gotham's social strata. There is certainly an abundance of gaiety throughout Gotham, but it's simply never been my focus or concern while stalking the city's rooftops.

Finally, I respond to Diana with a nod. She's right. Metropolis is Metropolis and Gotham is Gotham. There's nothing wrong with that. Nearly unbidden, Penguin and Harley come to mind. "Well, at least some of Gotham's worst try to clean up their acts from time to time. Can't say I'd rather have someone like Metallo in Gotham."

Diana laughs for a moment. I smile back. _'That joy, Diana's happiness. That's something I would fight for.'_

I pause for a few moments, reassessing my earlier thoughts. I had had always figured matters of the heart would be a distraction. I had thought them a source of pain for people around me, the very people I might love. Maybe if not for Joker and her father, I could have learned different from Andrea. Maybe if not for Ra's, I could have learned from Talia. Maybe even Selina if she could commit herself to reform.

Listening to Diana now, watching her, I can see what love is doing _for_ her, not _to_ her. Faced with it, I can only ask myself with more hope than I may have ever allowed, _'Can I be as happy? As open? Could love be a reason to fight rather than fighting being a reason not to love?'_ Sitting here, like this with Diana, I feel like the answer can be yes. But more than anything, I'm glad that if anyone is going to teach me the value of the heart, it's going to be her.

My thoughts allow another silence to befall us, one Diana eventually cannot stand to continue. "So...Lois is nice, isn't she?" I can't be surprised that she would ask. Still, how do I answer? Her tone is sincere, she certainly seems merely curious for my opinion, but this sounds like a loaded question if ever I've heard one.

"Sorry, Diana. I didn't mean for that to happen."

I see a flash of anger before she masks it. "Then why couldn't you have told me?" She keeps the anger from her tone, but lets an unmistakable anguish color her words.

There's no use holding back an answer. It wouldn't do me any good with Diana, certainly. "I didn't want it to come up. When she called, Lois said she wanted to see us, you and I together. She wanted to be able to move on."

"What do you mean? That she still had feelings for you?"

I nod solemnly. "But she never wanted to be part of my world. I buried whatever I held for her when I left Metropolis. I knew it couldn't work out."

Diana is silent for a few minutes. She takes a sip of her mocha, then laughs a dry laugh. "I don't know whether to be happy or angry with you."

She lowers her cup to the table. "Thank you for explaining it to me, but from now on, I would rather know about your past romances before I meet the women."

"Deal."

"Now, Bruce, I want you to promise me an honest answer." I look on for a few moments in confusion, then nod. "Did you try to bury what you felt for me?"

_'Why did you have to ask that?'_ I turn towards the window, looking out into the sunlight. I close my eyes in shame. "Yes," I whisper. I turn my head back. "But every time I saw you, I had to start all over again.

"When I watched you turn away, finally resigning yourself of me, I realized I would never succeed. Alone, I didn't know what to do, how to stop you, if I should have stopped you at all. If not for Alfred, I would have let you walk away." I open my eyes, lifting my chin and gaze, ignoring the emotion on Diana's face just long enough to look her directly in the eye and finish, "And I would have regretted it for the rest of my life."

I watch Diana's expression soften. Finally, she smiles. She takes another sip of her mocha, longer this time. "So I guess I wasn't a monster you were trying to avoid."

I shake my head twice slowly. "No, Diana. Not at all.

"I've…had a lot of bad experience falling in love. I was avoiding the reminder that I couldn't put you behind me." I give her a smile and add in jest, "You're a hard woman to deny, Diana."

Diana hums a laugh. She folds her arms and puts her elbows on the edge of the table. Then she leans out over her arms with a smile, almost a smirk on her lips. "Haven't you heard, Bruce?" She drops her voice to a soft, almost sensual whisper. "I am Diana, Princess of the Amazons. I won't be denied…"

Her eyes close. Her request is clear. I reach across the table, cupping my hands around her upper arms. I lean in until the tip of my nose touches hers. After, I move to the side a little before leaning in, our noses brushing alongside one another as our lips near.

I want her to feel every little movement as I get ever closer, slowing until I'm barely moving, my gentle breathes the only thing to warm her lips. A tiny noise escapes from between her waiting lips, something halfway between a hum and a moan of desire and urging. I tip my chin closer, grant her the lightest, briefest of brushes with my lips upon hers.

When Diana presses her lips back towards mine, clearly unsatisfied with a quick brush, I pull away and smile. I hold the smile firm on my lips even as Diana catches up. She tries to kiss me, but stops at my unresponsiveness. She opens her eyes and begins pulling back, confused and clearly about to question my behavior. I choose this moment to lean in again.

I slip my hands past her arms, settling them into place on her sides, just below her breasts, my fingers wrapping around onto her back. I press my lips hungrily against Diana's and she moans once in surprise. A moment later, the surprise on her expression gives way to pleasure and her eyes close. A second moan escapes her to tell me of her approval and enjoyment.

As we work our jaws open and closed for the sensations of lip against lip, her arms unfold on the table. I feel them shifting, her upper arms moving against my forearms. Her hands find their way to my chest. They pause there for a moment before she begins gliding them up over tan fabric to wrap over the tops of my shoulders. We pull each other closer as I straighten my head a little to grasp Diana's upper lip between mine.

I brush the tip of my tongue across the edge of her lip, drinking in the low moan she replies with before relaxing my jaw, giving her a quick, open-mouthed kiss, and then capturing her lower lip. I give it a gentle pull and press it tightly between my lips before letting go and kissing her once more.

Ever so gradually, I pull away, breaking from Diana's lips and straightening. I jump my hands from her sides to her upper arms, then slide them down to her elbows, and finally, her forearms as I sit back. She does the same while leaning back.

I give a near smirk while managing to avoid looking too smug. "Was that to my princess's satisfaction?" She answers with a smile that perfectly reflects my own. "And what do you will next, Princess?"

Diana chuckles for a moment, then laughs. It's a good-humored laugh, hearty and full of spirit—however else I might also describe it.

It's heartwarming to hear, to see her like this. It's such a far cry from the jealousy and anger she wore earlier. _'I don't ever want to see that again... I want Diana to be happy. I want to make her happy.'_

I pull my arms back, taking her hands in mine. I lift them from the table and lean down. I plant a gentle kiss on the first knuckle of each finger and both thumbs, starting with her right pinkie and working my way across to her left pinkie like an old typewriter working its way across a line. When done, I go back, kissing each again out of order, even placing a third kiss on the knuckles of both of her ring fingers as I look up into Diana's eyes while letting my thoughts wander.

"Bruce..." Diana laughs, turning her hands and cupping them around my chin. She lifts my head with an insisting pressure and leans down to my level. She plants a gentle kiss on each of my cheekbones before a quick peck on my lips.

She is smiling as she leans back. "I assume you remember that we're still in public." I nod in confirmation, though I hadn't really cared. "Let's save anything further for a time when we have a little more privacy." I smile and nod in agreement.

Diana's hands leave my chin. She takes her drink again, sitting back and lifting her cup. She finishes it slowly before setting it back down.

I do the same and, for a moment, we're watching each other over the edges of our cups. We're both smiling when we set the empty cups down. "Alright. Where to next?" she asks.

I rise from my chair. Diana follows me to her feet. We throw our cups away and head back out to the streets hand-in-hand. For the next few hours, we continue touring the city on foot.

We stop in and visit each museum we come across. We stop at a few other Metropolis landmarks as well. Even the Metro Mall earns a quick walk-through. While in the mall, Diana explains what happened when she and Superman found part of the key to Tartarus under its floor.

When the late afternoon light begins fading into the evening, we finally make our way towards the Metropolis Grande Hotel. Our arrival is smooth, the desk clerk confirming that Alfred had checked in and handing over the keycard my old friend asked be left at the desk to await our arrival.

We cross the hotel lobby to find an elevator waiting, its lone passenger from the floors above stepping off just as we reach it. The ride to the penthouse floor takes a long while. Both of us keep our focus on the floor indicator.

When the elevator reaches the top level, we step out into the small hallway between the elevator and the suite's door. I put the keycard into the reader and open the door into the room before stepping aside and letting Diana enter first.

We hear classical music while walking into the suite's extravagant living room. "Alfred?" I call out.

"Oh! Master Bruce!" we hear Alfred calling from one of the two bedrooms, one on our right and Alfred in the opposite bedroom on our left. The door is ajar.

"Don't get up, you're still on vacation!" I return, turning to Diana and motioning for her to follow me.

We open the door and find Alfred in full dress, relaxing on his bed above the covers. His hands are folded on his stomach and his feet are crossed. His head is turned and he is regarding us with a look of curiosity. The television past his feet is on, the source of the soft stream of Mozart filling the room.

"Glad to see you've been enjoying yourself," I tell him.

"But of course, sir." He pauses and sits upright. "I trust that the both of you have also enjoyed your day?"

"Yes," Diana replies. I lift our still-joined hands, presenting the evidence to Alfred, then turn to Diana. "Very much so, Alfred. After the interview, we spent the day walking throughout Metropolis. We visited a number of museums, stopped in at some shops for snacks and drinks, and went to a mall to see if anything interesting was out for sale and so I could show Bruce where I fought Superman."

That her joy extends into the last bit surprises Alfred and he lets it show. "You and Superman fought one another?"

"Well, we didn't know it at the time. We were searching for part of an artifact. It was booby-trapped. Until we finally saw one another's reflections, it created an illusion so that we both saw each other as demons."

"My goodness!" Alfred exclaims, "I hope that you saw through it quickly enough."

Diana answers first with a dry smile. "He did first. I gained the upper hand for a few moments and drove him into the floor. When he got back up, he stopped retaliating. I should have noticed it, but I was trying to press my advantage. I had him by the throat and demanded to know where Superman was. He pointed to a mirror behind me and it broke the illusion."

"I see. Well, I am certainly glad to hear that you did not seriously injure yourselves." As Alfred speaks, my expression sours.

'_I would have preferred to be with her myself rather than finding out about Faust's history.'_

Alfred sees my change. It doesn't surprise me at all. After a lifetime of watching me, a shift in my expression, no matter how subtle, must be easy to read. "In any case, I was just considering whether or not I should order any room service. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"No," I answer, prompting him to continue.

"Then perhaps we should all place an order. Each bedroom has its own bathroom. After our meals arrive, I would certainly be happy to retire to my room for the evening. I will certainly turn it down if you would prefer, but perhaps my music would be a pleasant addition to the atmosphere out in the suite's living room and kitchenette. Or perhaps the terrace can offer a rather pleasant view of the Metropolis skyline at night."

"That's a wonderful idea, Alfred!" Diana turns. "Don't you think so, Bruce?"

"Of course," I reply, thankful once again for Alfred's thoughtfulness.

I turn around, lead Diana back out into the living room. I had noticed a folder on the coffee table between the two couches. I assume the room service information and menus will be there.

Opening the folder first reveals a small notepad and a fountain pen, each with appropriately-sized versions of the hotel's logo. Diana reaches out and takes both pad and pen. "You find the menu and I'll write down everyone's orders."

I smile, lifting my chin to better look at Diana. "Would you like to call downstairs, too?"

"Sure. I've never called for room service before. Talk me through it if I manage to mess it up?"

I blink in surprise. It had been meant as a joke. Surprise gives way to affection. I nod, smile, then add, "Of course." I turn back to the well-packed folder and resume my search.

Finally, I find the menu near the back of the folder. I lean back as I hold the menu by its bottom edge in my right hand. I hold the menu over my leg, tipped towards Diana on my right so we can both read it.

"Any thoughts?" I ask, turning my head to Diana. She gives a quick hum in response, her focus on narrowing her choices. For some reason, it's heartwarming to see her sitting beside me like that, casually dressed and so relaxed, so happy. I feel a new smile touch my lips. "You know...we could...share a meal for two."

A hum of dawning realization and then approval escapes Diana and she turns to me with a smile. Her eyes quickly find mine and she then jabs at the menu with her left forefinger. "How about this, Bruce?"

I turn to the menu. "The Caesar salad?"

"What? No!" She turns to see where her finger landed on the page. "Oh. Sorry, wrong column." Her finger slides to the right. "A roast duck dinner for two."

I nod in agreement and Diana carefully copies the meal's information onto the notepad. "Alright. Let's go ask Alfred what he'd like for dinner," I suggest when she is done.

We stand and return to the entrance to Alfred's room. I open the door before the pair of us file inside, finding him again totally at ease, laying peacefully on the bed.

"Alright, Alfred, your turn to pick." He turns at Diana's words. He stops, stares at both of us, aghast. "What?"

"_Absolutely_ not, Your Highness! I cannot allow myself to be waited on by royalty!" Alfred begins to sit upright, intent on swinging out of bed and taking over.

"Easy, Alfred," I calmingly tell my old friend. He pauses, lifting his focus to my face. "Call it a team effort. Diana volunteered to write out our orders and call down to the desk."

"So long as Bruce helps me out if I have any trouble when I make the call," Diana finishes for me.

I walk up to Alfred and offer him the menu. He looks at me while taking it. "I wouldn't worry about that, Miss Diana, I'm sure Master Bruce will be an absolute gentleman in the matter." His words are pointed and commanding. For a moment, I wonder if he means about the call for room service or anything and everything Diana and I do together from now on. Somehow, I guess that he was thinking of the call, but meant everything.

Meanwhile, Alfred turns his attention to the menu, holding the overcrowded, double-sided page in one hand and rubbing his chin with the other while he considers the options. "I believe the sirloin steak dinner would be a safe choice. Well done, please. Also, if I may be so bold as to ask what you've decided upon?"

"We're going to share a roast duck dinner for two."

Alfred hands the menu back to me with a good-humored grin. "I hope it won't be smiling at you," he laughs.

It's easy enough to assume he means one of Joker's smiling animals, something like his Jokerfish scheme. I sort of wish he had, but I know the reference he intends. I turn to find Diana about to ask his meaning. "It's in reference to a classic family movie, adapted from several books written by author Jean Shepherd. Shepherd also narrated the film and made a short cameo appearance."

Diana nods in understanding, letting any further questions pass. She then turns around, heading back to the couches, her next task waiting and with her more than ready to make the call. I follow as she sits by the phone. I step past her to sit to her right, holding the menu out for her with my right hand, tapping my index finger against the top of the page to point out the instructions for placing an order.

Diana quickly reads the instructions once, then reaches out for the phone receiver. I watch with a mix of amusement and affection as Diana endeavors to operate the device for what could be her first time using a normal phone.

"Hello." A pause as she listens to the person on the other end of the line. "Diana. I would like to order room service." Another pause. She turns to me. "Bruce, what's our room number?"

"Just tell them it's the penthouse suite. If they ask for more, the room is in my name."

She nods in acknowledgment, then turns forward again. "The penthouse suite. It's under Bruce Wayne." She pauses once more. "B112, the sirloin steak dinner, and P248, the roasted duck dinner for two." She turns, gives me a smile to let me know that things are going well so far.

This pause is longer than those before it. "I've never done this before. Do we go downstairs to pick it up in a half hour?" She nods in understanding. "Alright. Bruce and I will be ready and waiting, then. Thank you." A final pause. "Goodbye."

She sets the receiver back into its cradle and turns back to me. "Well, that was interesting. Thank you for letting me call."

"Enjoy yourself, Diana?"

"Yes, it was sort of fun. What can we do while we wait?"

"For a half hour? I'm not really one for TV entertainment, but there are chairs out on the terrace if you'd like to see the Metropolis skyline lit up at night."

Diana nods enthusiastically, so we stand and work our way through the furniture to open the swinging glass doors and the sliding screen doors past them. We leave the glass doors open so we will hear the doorbell when our food arrives. There are a few chairs outside, but Diana points me towards a fancy wooden rocking sofa that sports large, soft cushions.

We sit together and I make a tiny move, lifting my right arm and wrapping it around Diana's shoulders. She looks to me with a smile and then leans against the front of my shoulder. She scoots closer, until our hips and thighs are flush against one another as well. She gives a contented sigh and sinks deeper into the cushion next to me. "Have to admit I really like this, Bruce."

"Hmm?"

"Being close like this. This nearness. This…intimacy." She turns her head towards me and tips her forehead down until it's resting against my cheek. "It's relaxing and comforting, but exciting and thrilling all at once."

She drops her voice to a whisper. "This is the happiest I've been since arriving in Man's World…"

Diana's admission surprises me. _'I've never believed that I could make someone so happy, not since…'_ Not since my parents died. I've seen Alfred beaming with pride. I've gotten more than one man's fair share of empathy from Leslie. Dick and Tim have admired me.

I watched Dick grow into a self-sufficient man all on his own, took pride in how I helped him achieve it, had regrets over my role in his leaving. It's been so long since I've seen someone simply happy on account of me. Maybe with past romances, but I always disappointed them in the end.

I close my eyes. _'Yes,'_ I answer past thoughts, _'I can fight for love of Diana.'_ I turn my head towards Diana, nudging her forehead back towards my neck, cradling her head between my cheek and shoulder.

"Thank you, Diana," I whisper softly.

"For what?"

I turn my head a little more, kiss Diana's neck just above her jacket collar. "Opening my eyes."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading.


	6. Overdue

**Author's Note:** Well, I didn't _mean_ to break the 10K barrier. This must be what I get for trying to keep Eyes short. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

The last of our dinnerware in the sink, Bruce and I return to the rocking sofa on the terrace. For a while, we sit beside one another, content simply hand-in-hand, our fingers interlocked while we sit and look out into the Metropolis night sky. I make the first move, rubbing his hand with my thumb.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bruce turn his head towards me. I do the same, turning to face him. "Well, I'm happy to see that _you're_ so relaxed." I give him a smile afterwards.

"You seem to be in quite the mood yourself."

A hummed laugh escapes me. "Would you like me to repeat myself? Tell you again how happy I am tonight?"

"Well, you don't have to _tell_ me..." The corners of Bruce's lips curve up into a smirk.

Something like a tingle of desire runs across my lips as I remember our kisses in the coffee shop. _'I did more or less promise that we could continue once we weren't surrounded by strangers…'_

I lean closer to Bruce, turning my shoulders and pulling our joined hands into the small sliver of open cushion between our hips. I let my lips part lazily as I get closer and closer to Bruce's lips. I lower my gaze to his smile, itself fading to prepare for a kiss. Just before our noses begin to pass, I stop, lift my eyes to his, and lift my face away a few inches while I steal his smirk.

"I'm sorry, Bruce, were you trying to coerce me, the Princess of the Amazons, into something I didn't mean?"

His eyes narrow for the briefest of instants. He twists his shoulders towards me and I almost miss his hand before he takes hold of my right shoulder. He tips his head to my left and quickly leans forward, chasing after me, his eyes closing the rest of the way.

His lips press tightly to mine. I feel his jaw opening and let a small moan escape me while I race to match him and close my eyes. Our lips repeatedly slide against each other. The simultaneously sharp but gentle sounds of our lips fills my ears, mixing with the sounds of increasingly-labored breaths and the occasional approving moan. It takes me a few good seconds to realize most of the moans are mine.

Bruce keeps going, every so often pausing to pull back and tip his head the other way. In these brief reprieves, we take a moment to open our eyes, blue gazing passionately into blue. Each time we return, our jaws' and lips' movements become gradually more pronounced, yet somehow still small.

Finally, Bruce throws me a surprise, brushing the soft tip of his tongue against the edge of my upper lip as the misaligned seal of our lips begins to close. I start a little with surprise from the unexpected touch and he takes the opportunity to realign our mouths and capture my lower lip, even giving it a little tug before I can react.

I lean back against him and manage to capture his upper lip. I take my turn, capitalizing on the opportunity and getting a taste of him. For a few moments even after we pull away from each other, the texture of his lip lingers on the tip of my tongue.

We both begin opening our eyes at the same time, but I drag the motion out, holding onto the taste and feel of his lips for as long as I can. By the time my eyes are completely open, Bruce is smiling again. He waits to be sure he has my full attention before speaking. "I believe you need to be unwilling to be coerced, Princess."

The knowing, almost haughty smirk shaping his lips is frustrating to look at, but despite myself, all I want right now is to have those beautiful lips on mine again. Before long, Bruce's stillness is what's frustrating.

Finally, I take action myself, lifting my right forearm from its resting place across my right thigh. I snake my hand around and behind Bruce's left shoulder, wrapping my fingers over the front of it. I press my palm against the top of his shoulder blade, pulling him close again.

I press my lips to Bruce's hungrily. I find myself kissing more intensely than I had imagined and quickly realize what I'm doing; I am claiming Bruce's lips, claiming Bruce himself for myself.

The realization gives me pause. _'I've done this before.'_ I let my lips still, but keep them pressed tightly to his while thinking back. This isn't an act of apology, repentance, or forgiveness. This is possessive. This is passion.

My self-distracting thoughts must be trying to Bruce. He takes the initiative, restarting our kiss and returning my passion with equal fervor. His reversal takes only a few short seconds. Almost before I am aware of the change, the hand on my shoulder jumps away, finding the bare skin of my waist, just below the hem of my shirt.

He slips his fingers under the fabric. He spreads them slightly as he turns his hand at the wrist, lifting his hand up my side and beginning to run it around toward my back.

His hand finally comes to rest with his thumb outside the shirt to hold its hem straight as it runs across the back of his palm and fingers. The instant his hand stills, Bruce pulls me closer. In the same stroke, he lifts himself and leans over me, my head tipping back and my body bending with him as his gentle pulling draws me closer until finally I feel his tan jacket against my bare stomach and his lifting presses my breasts to his chest.

His right hand slips free from my left. It touches me again seconds later, first his fingertips on my cheek, then his palm joining soon after. My fingers tighten over Bruce's shoulders as he slides his hand back, fingertips entangling themselves in the roots of my hair, all of it now hanging freely below my head, swaying gently as our lips and mouths continue to move against each other.

In our new position, I realize that I'm losing our subtle contest of power and control, but I can't find the will to complain or protest. Being born and raised an Amazon did nothing to prepare me for this kind of passion, for the love swelling my heart, for the excitement filling my mind. Worst of all, it did not prepare me for my acceptance in any way of a man being over me.

There's a lightness, a tingling numbness spreading pleasingly up the back of my neck. It's been there since before now, though I can't think of when I first felt it. Now it seems to be settling in the back of my head. Bruce's hands and lips seem to be feeding it. A small wish runs through my mind, hoping that I will lose myself to the sensation.

Bruce unknowingly distracts me from it. Again, he runs his tongue along my lip, pulling my full attention back to my lips. Our impassioned kiss continues normally for a few moments more, then Bruce does it again. He pulls back for a moment and I open my eyes to see him tipping his head the other way. I close my eyes and do the same moments before I get his lips back. _'He's baiting me,' _I realize when I feel the soft touch of lingua for a third time soon after.

I lift my recently-emptied left hand and find the junction of Bruce's neck and shoulder, resting my hand there for a moment before doing the same as he had done to me, working my fingers up into his hair. My focus stays mostly with my lips, but a small part of my mind races, trying to figure out what Bruce is baiting me for. Finally, I give in to curiosity and reach out with my tongue, parroting him and touching the edge of his lip.

The response isn't immediate. After another cycle of our jaws' motions, Bruce's tongue returns. The narrowed tip brushes lightly against the inside of my lip next to the corner of my mouth. His head tips further, until our noses are more than halfway to perpendicular, but still barely touching each other's cheeks.

As Bruce had, I let another cycle pass before I copy the motion and return the touch. He does the same, touching a new spot on my lower lip before retreating. We quickly settle into a pattern, each of us allowing an uninterrupted cycle of our jaws and lips against each other before taking turns sneaking our tongues to the other's lips.

Finally, Bruce straightens his head again. At the same time, he takes his turn and pulls the center of my upper lip against his own. When my turn comes, I find myself reaching further than I expected to get my tongue behind his lip.

The instant I touch the underside of his lip, his returns. He captures my tongue, pressing it against his upper lip. At the same time, his jaw leads mine closed and for a too-brief moment, both of our lips are perfectly sealed around our joined linguae. A moan of consummate pleasure escapes me.

Gently, our tongues glide against one another as we begin separating, drawing our lips tight around each other's soft invader. I open my eyes when Bruce's lips leave me. I stare up into his eyes for a few seconds while the lightness threatens to overtake me, held back only by my excitement.

I hear my heart, beating wildly in my chest. With my breasts pressed to Bruce, I am certain that he can feel it resonating through him. A tiny piece of my logic trying to hold out between the lightness and excitement screams for me to take at least a minute to calm down, but desire drowns it out.

I want my turn. Bruce got a taste of the inside of my mouth, of my tongue. All I got was a sample. _'I want to taste him!'_

If he decides that we're done kissing now, I might end up seriously hurting him. I can't let him do that. Before he gets the opportunity to move any more, I reach back up with my lips and pick up our kiss from where we left off.

He forces me to wait two whole cycles of our lips brushing against each other before he finally gives in. His timing actually catches me off guard, but he pauses, giving me time to react. I reach out with my tongue, press it up against the underside of Bruce's. He waits for me to lead our lips closed tight around our tongues and again waits for me to begin pulling my tongue away. I take my time, taking full advantage of the opportunity to savor every sensation and commit absolutely every bit of it to memory.

Finally, the kiss ends as Bruce lifts his lips away. I open my eyes to look up into his. I can still taste Bruce's tongue and the inside of his mouth. The tiny samples I had gotten from his lips pale in comparison. I've never had anything to eat or drink that tasted even similar. I can't believe the thought could ever cross my mind, but I can't help myself. _'This taste...rivals iced mochas...'_

Absently, I pull my lower lip in between my teeth and begin rubbing the end of my tongue against the smooth inside. I notice after a moment, then open my mouth to stop myself, try to distract myself from the lingering memory of our kiss. "…Great Hera!" I breathe. It's about the best I can come up with.

Bruce lowers his hand from my hair and the side of my head. It falls to my shoulder, then down, onto my upper arm. He leans back as he caresses my arm and his left hand caresses my side under the shirt.

He sinks into the cushion beside me while sitting straighter, all but pulling me upright with him, my hands still behind him. I relax both hands, letting his shoulder go and dropping my right hand down to rest on his side just above his waist while my left falls to his shoulder. I pull my palm away and slowly, lightly glide my fingertips onto his chest, down to about the middle of his fabric-wrapped torso.

My desire, my _need_ for that last kiss come back to me. "I never knew myself to be so…greedy," I think aloud.

"Can't say I feel like complaining about it…" His reply is lighthearted, but I know he is being honest. I smile in reply to his humor.

I see a moment's hesitation in his eyes. "Diana, do you need to return to the Watchtower tonight?"

"What?"

"You have a late morning monitor duty shift tomorrow. Do you really need to go back there to sleep? You're perfectly welcome to sleep here."

"Wait." I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. "Do you want—"

"I mean you can use the other bedroom. There's sure to be plenty of extra beddings and pillows. Both of the couches in the living room are long enough for me to sleep on, if you'd prefer." It's left unsaid, but there's a clear suggestion in that short pause before he finishes the sentence.

I take more than a long moment to consider the question. I had lost control from a kiss. Granted, I've never had so exciting a kiss, but my mind sees fit to remember that I, an Amazon, let a man take control. Even my turn leading our last kiss hadn't truly been something I controlled. Bruce was still above me the whole time. I needed him and his marvelous tongue for the kiss and he had certainly been the one to choose when to let it begin.

The memory of the kiss is exciting enough, but at the thought of his tongue, I remember his taste. Again, my tongue begins to move absently, wandering back and forth against the roof of my mouth as I suppress the urge to kiss Bruce again.

Remembering his question helps. "Alright, I can spend the night here." It's tempting to stop there, but I'd rather have a better handle on myself before letting myself go any further. "But are you certain you'll have everything you need to sleep without a bed for yourself?"

Bruce's expression shifts. I inwardly sigh with relief. _'He isn't mad—he doesn't even seem surprised. Maybe he only wants the company...'_ I smile appreciatively.

Before the smile is fully on my lips, he answers. He lifts his right hand from its gentle caresses and rests his forearm on the back of the sofa. "Believe it or not, I've slept on couches before. I even have more than one to choose from here. Bedding won't be an issue, either. It's more or less a given that there are extra sheets, blankets, and pillows for both your bed and Alfred's."

That brings up an interesting point. "What about Alfred? What will he say when he finds out?"

"Well, he won't accept another day of vacation. That's for certain." Bruce pauses, thinking. "A place like this, I can get us guest robes if there aren't any waiting for us in the bedroom closets or bathrooms already. Put your clothes out and Alfred will have them cleaned, dried, and pressed—assuming he can figure a way to do that up here—all by the time you wake up."

"That might be nice. I don't have another set of clothes for tomorrow. What about you sleeping on a couch?"

Bruce gives a small chuckle. He smiles at me after calming. "He probably won't say much of anything. At least not now. He'll bring it up later, I'm sure, but you can bet he'll be ecstatic. Remember, he did have a hand in keeping me from letting you walk away."

"So he may see it as a form of thanks?"

Bruce tips his head off to the side, his smile widening and his gaze turning to the night sky past me on my right. Something of a whine escapes him as he considers the idea. "Something like that," he finally answers while looking back to me.

"And speaking of 'what about's, what about Gotham?" I only hope he doesn't take it to mean I want him to go out and patrol. Not here in Metropolis or back in Gotham. Not tonight, when I have him to myself.

"It's being handled." I give him an inquisitive look, silently asking if that's all the answer he intends to give me. "Dick has been having a little trouble in Blüdhaven of late, otherwise I'd have asked him to stay at Wayne Manor with Tim. Since he is unavailable, I talked to Commissioner Gordon, asked if his daughter would be interested in house-sitting for a day or two so Tim wouldn't have to stay somewhere else."

I give a slight nod of understanding. "I see."

Bruce had never confirmed anything about his team to the founding Leaguers. It had been easy enough to deduce after I figured out his identity in Paris. J'onn and I had even met with all three while living at the manor during the second Watchtower's construction. Even so, Bruce never said anything definitive.

Alfred had answered more about "Master Bruce's self-imposed obligations to protect those closest to him" than why everyone seemed to disappear at night while the Batmobile wasn't in the cave. Even then, Tim was the only one I was ever really sure about. I saw Dick and Barbara so rarely that I was nearly back to deductive reasoning for their caped identities. This is the closest I've gotten Bruce to telling me who his teammates are.

"It's in good hands," I respond with surety. He smiles and starts us repositioning ourselves on the rocking sofa. We move closer, shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, thigh-to-thigh. I let him wrap his right arm around me, but instead take his free left hand in my own.

We turn our heads to one another and share a smile. Once our smiles begin to soften, I rotate my left shoulder forward and slide it across his chest. I steal a quick kiss, then gaze lovingly into his eyes for a few breaths before I turn my head forward and settle back against him.

I close my eyes and lift my right hand to my side, covering as much of Bruce's right hand as I can. The mood feels right. "I love you, Bruce," I tell him, the words soft, but unmistakably from the bottom of my heart.

I feel his warm breath on my ear a moment later and the sensation sends a pleasant, unexpected shudder through me. "I love you, too, Diana," he whispers.

Happiness fills me and my heart swells. At the same time, I notice the lightness at the back of my neck again. Until now, I had thought it a response to so passionate a kiss, but maybe that had only made it stronger. Perhaps the real cause is Bruce himself, my emotions, my love for him that only seems to be growing more intense now that I actually have him, now that he's no longer trying to run from me.

A part of me wants to ask Bruce if he feels anything similar, but I'd much rather hold on to this tranquility. Bruce is relaxed and seems happy, all on account of me. It's hard not to be a little self-satisfied, maybe a little arrogant about that, but it helps to know that we're sharing both our feelings and time. They're equally important.

Bruce and I stay on the sofa for a while. It seems to be a clear night, but no matter how long I stare at it, I don't see any stars. Bruce moves his arms in the middle of my thoughts, interrupting me for a few moments as he does. I wait until his hands come together, for him to clasp them over the exposed skin of my stomach. "I'm surprised the stars aren't visible by now." I wrap my hands over his.

"Too much light pollution," he explains succinctly. "Gotham can get like this, too. The downtown and the industrial districts get more smog, fog, and low clouds. Incidentally, Wayne Manor has one of the best views of the night sky in all of Gotham."

I think back to my time in the manor. "At least it's something to project the Batsignal onto, right?"

An amused humph escapes him. "Right." He falls silent for a few moments, then straightens in his seat. "About time to get everything sorted out so we can retire?"

I lean forward, nodding. Bruce's hands unclasp and I move to my right as he pulls his arms away, each of us giving the other room to stand. I follow Bruce inside, closing both sets of doors behind us. I can hear that Alfred's music has stopped. I imagine him awake and waiting anxiously, hoping not to hear signs of argument, hoping for some sign that Bruce and I are getting along well, but I hope he is already asleep. Observation has taught me that Alfred barely gets more sleep than Bruce on most days. The cost of helping him maintain the dichotomous lifestyles of socialite and crimefighter.

We pass quickly through the living room and enter the bedroom opposite Alfred's. The bed draws my attention from the moment I first step inside. It's probably a king-sized bed and it has been immaculately made. It has what looks like a single, massive pillow stretching from one side of the mattress to the other. Bruce steps right up to it and pulls back a heavy blanket and then what looks and sounds like the satin sheet beneath to reveal what is actually two rows of pillows.

Bruce picks up one of the smaller pillows in the first row, then one of the two larger pillows that make up the second row. He turns to me with a pillow in each hand. "I shouldn't need any more than these two. It's safe to assume four pillows will be enough for you, right?"

I can tell he is joking, so I lift my hands to my hips and look as commanding, as authoritative as I can. "Bruce," I playfully warn, a smile on my lips.

He chuckles, then moves to pass me. "Hold on. I want to set these down before we go any further."

I nod and cross my forearms below my bust, leaning over my left foot as I follow him with my eyes while he leaves the room. He steps out of my line of sight after rounding the corner at the end of one of the couches. He comes back into view a moment later, empty-handed. He answers my silent gaze by pointing a finger to my left, to a large closet stretching out from the corner to the left of the door, extending nearly two thirds of the way down the wall to my left. Past it, I notice a smaller set of screen and glass doors, leading out to a private veranda, its facing the opposite of the terrace where Bruce and I were relaxing.

"Here we are," Bruce comments aloud as he pulls open the first set of closet doors. I turn my attention back to him and see the shelf above the line of empty hangers. There is a set of sheets and blankets folded in the corner on the shelf. Bruce reaches for them, then flips the light switch as he pulls them out, lighting up the inside of the closet.

He leans into it, then turns to his left. He turns his head further, turning to me before he straightens and steps out. "The bathrobes are at the other end. Go ahead and grab one while I put these in the other room."

"Alright," I reply while stepping up to the last set of doors at the closet's left end. The doors swing out without a sound, revealing a pair of fluffy white bathrobes, hanging from the first two hangers on the line.

I reach in and slide the two hangers apart to compare the backs to the fronts. Both bathrobes are a brilliant, but somewhat plain white. The only bit of color is the hotel's MGH logo embroidered in large, blocky gold lettering, with "Metropolis" above and "Grande Hotel" below in a calligraphic script.

I pull one of them from its hanger, surprised at how soft the robe is. I idly rub the material between my left thumb and forefinger, my mind returning once again to Wayne Manor. Alfred had delivered a similar robe to me and to J'onn when we stayed there. It had been one of my favorites of the manor's luxuries and he had offered to let me keep it once the Watchtower was habitable, but I had declined. I've regretted it from time to time, but with its embroidered Wayne "W," I felt it would be wrong to remove it from the manor.

I get a small nagging feeling and turn. Bruce is standing behind me. His approach had been silent, but that doesn't surprise me. "Usually I'm more quiet," he says apologetically.

"Don't worry, I didn't hear you." I hand him the robe. "You'll need one, too, right?"

He takes it with both hands. "I'll wait outside if you'd like to change now."

I nod in response. "Where is Alfred going to wash my things?"

"There's a laundry closet near the door. Even comes with a laundry basket."

"Bruce, we've been together since we got here. When did you have the chance to look into all of this?"

"I took a quick look when I put the beddings in the other room," he answers frankly. "These places usually have all the basic amenities of home. Some, more eccentric guests live in penthouse suites for extended periods. The hotels need to build their suites with that in mind."

"Eccentric, Bruce?" I smile wryly. "You say that like you're not talking about yourself. How many other billionaires do you know who run around like you?"

"There's always Oliver Queen." I laugh at that. Green Arrow, of course.

Bruce waits for my laughter to pass. "I'll let you change." With that, Bruce turns to the door. He steps out, pausing to turn back and close the door. He gives me a smile before I lose sight of him.

I stand still for a while, letting the day and evening replay slowly in my mind. _'Well, I was certainly right to tell Shayera that working for Bruce's affections is worth it…'_ The thought brings a smile to my lips.

Finally, with a shake of my head, I refocus. I need to change. I remove the second robe from its hanger and walk to my bed for the night, the robe draped over my arm. After setting it down on the edge of the bed, I take my shoes off and set them beside the foot of the bed. I next begin to remove my clothes, leaving myself in only my bracelets and pendant necklace as I begin to fold each article of clothing carefully and pile it all on the bed.

Once finished, I pick the robe up and slip first my right arm, then my left into its sleeves. With my grip on the edges, I pull the robe closed, letting its soft warmth envelope me from my neck all the way down past my knees.

I bring my hands up to free my hair from the robe's neck, then notice the motion opened the robe. 'Now,_ how do I keep it closed?'_ I ask myself, leaning forward and looking down past my breasts to the robe's waist. "Ahh," I remark aloud, spotting the ends of a sash hanging from a pair of the loops sewn around the robe's waist.

I pull the sides of the robe closed before taking both ends of the sash and wrapping them around each other. I pull the ends of the sash tight, then readjust the sides, pulling them straight to make sure there are no wrinkles, I lift the sash's ends and pull it tight once more. Satisfied with both sash and robe, I pick my clothes up and hold them to myself below my bust with my left arm.

I walk over to the bedroom door and it opens as easily as the closet doors had. I find Bruce sitting on one of the couches, facing the doors out to the terrace. As I approach, I look over the second couch, which faces the door to Alfred's room. Bruce has the pillows set up at one end of the couch, the sheets and blankets already laid out across its seat.

Bruce turns to me and stands while looking me over from head to toe. Despite myself, I smile a little smugly at the look. I remember his line when we arrived at Gotham Delizioso. "Enjoying the view?" I can't help but ask.

His eyes dart up to mine as he lifts his chin, too. "Are you going to hit me if I say yes?" He isn't entirely serious, but I can also tell he isn't ruling the possibility out.

I give him a grin as I turn away. I spot the door to the tiny laundry room. It's open, the basket visible atop the washing machine. "Maybe. Leering at an Amazon, Bruce."

I hear him getting off the couch behind me, then silence. "Seems to me that a lot of people get away with that." He's a lot closer. Maybe a couple steps behind me.

"Just the ones I don't see." I step into the laundry room and put my clothing into the laundry basket, making sure my folded pants are on top. "Promise not to go digging through my clothes during the night and I might be willing to institute a more lenient punishment."

His response is nearly immediate. "I won't touch them or look through them and I'll make sure that Alfred moves and folds them strictly as required." I can tell he hasn't moved since he last spoke.

"Good," I reply, turning back to face Bruce with a smile. I step out of the laundry room and put myself well within arms' reach. I lift my hands to his chest, run my fingers up, onto his shoulders, and then let my arms slide over them as I step closer.

"Now," I begin, bending my elbows, crossing my arms at the wrist and wrapping my hands across the back of his head and neck, "about that goodnight kiss…"

"You mean punishment?" he corrects before letting his own lips widen into a smile.

I feel his hands on my sides through the robe's fabric. He slowly lifts them up, onto my lower ribs and closer to the level of my breasts. "Don't get caught up in the little details, Bruce," I reply in jest.

I give him a moment more, then lean forward and tip my head to the side, giving Bruce a quick kiss. I pull back when he starts to respond, then open my eyes and look up from his lips to his eyes. Bruce only lets me stay still a moment, leaning forward and kissing me back. His jaw opens slightly and he begins the thrilling rhythm of our lips rubbing against each other.

Finally, he stops, pulling back and giving us each the opportunity to relax our necks. I notice as we trade our gazes that his breathing is rather pronounced. A little self-reflection tells me that mine is, too.

I blink slowly, pulling my right hand from behind Bruce's head. My fingers find their way into his hair just above his left eye. They play along his hairline there, straightening some errant hairs, swirling little circles over others. A thought from the bedroom comes back to me.

"You know, Bruce…" He gives an inquiring hum to let me know I have his attention—as if it might be anywhere else. "I had breakfast with Shayera this morning. I was with her when you called from the airport. She didn't think you sounded all that affectionate..."

He doesn't wait long enough to see if I will add more. "What'd you say to that?" I'm glad to hear him ask, to hear him still interested.

"That I'm happy when my hard work pays off…" My expression hardens, and I let the almost lyrical tilt to my voice drop. "Don't get me wrong, Bruce. You can be as stubborn as a mule _most_ of the time, but your instincts are right more often than not and I usually trust your decisions.

I pause, and my thoughts shift. "I'm really glad you showed up in my room before I threw out my dress from Paris. I don't want to think about what I would have done if you had waited any longer to arrive, especially not now, knowing how happy I am."

Bruce's expression shifts suddenly. He turns away, his smile falling into a frown, almost a scowl as he pulls my fingers from his hair. "I can imagine what would have happened," he says after a moment.

The change surprises me. It's almost as abrupt as the change from Bruce Wayne to Batman. This is different, though, the change to Batman brings about an air of cold, calculating distance. This change only brought anger and frustration. "What are you talking about, Bruce?"

He gives a little start, lifting his head and turning back to me. "Sorry. A bout of my natural pessimism. Don't worry about it, Diana."

I let my lips part a little as I stare back at Bruce with uncertainty and curiosity. Bruce leans forward again, presses his lips to mine gently, holding the unexpected kiss for a few short breaths. Just after I close my eyes, he pulls back. "We're dating and you're here with me now. That's all that matters."

I wrap my right hand back behind Bruce's head. "_Finally_ dating," I correct.

"Finally," he agrees. His hands drop back down to my waist, his palms soon falling away, leaving me held between his fingertips.

"Alright. You should probably head to bed. I've got to get ready, too. It might be nice to get a full night's rest. I'm sure Alfred will still beat me to waking up tomorrow, though."

I nod and begin to slowly remove my arms from behind his head. I pause when my hands are over his shoulders again. I feel another sense of daring. "I love you, Bruce."

His cheeks flush lightly. "I-I" he begins to stammer embarrassedly. He stops himself, swallows and restarts with confidence and heartfelt emotion. "I love you, too, Diana."

"Thank you, Bruce," I tell him after a short silence, lifting my hands from his shoulders to cup either side of his chin. I lean in and give him a brief kiss. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that," I tell him appreciatively as I lean back and lower my hands.

Bruce's hands fall away as well and he smiles. "I'd be willing to argue that point. I'm pretty sure I have a good idea."

A quick chuckle escapes me before I turn. "I suppose you do," I reply, remembering his blush.

He lets me get back to the bedroom door in silence. Just before I cross beneath the doorframe, he pauses me with the soft utterance of my name. I turn back to him. "Good night, Diana."

My smile broadens. "Good night, Bruce." I take a step back and then slowly close the bedroom door, neither of us averting our gaze until it finally cuts us off from one another.

I walk towards the oversized bed. _'Not much to do now but retire—Oh!'_ There is one thing to do. I turn, diverting towards a chair past the nightstand on the bed's right.

I relax as I sit down in it. Resting my elbows and forearms on the chair's arms, I lift a hand to my right ear to activate my communicator. "Wonder Woman to Watchtower."

A moment later, I hear a voice in my ear. "Watchtower. This is Mr. Terrific. Go ahead, Wonder Woman."

"This is just to inform you that I'll be staying in Metropolis tonight. I should be back aboard in time for my monitor duty shift tomorrow morning."

"Understood. Anything else?"

I'm about to answer that there isn't, but a thought hits me and I pause for another moment. _'I don't want anyone to misunderstand and think I'm in Metropolis to stay with Kal.'_ I let the conversation play out in my mind for a moment.

"Is Superman aboard?"

"Just a second." A short pause. "According to the transporter records, he went back to the surface a few hours ago."

_'That's right, he was going to Kansas after his shift.'_ Better to feign a little ignorance. "Oh. Alright. Well, would you contact him for me? He needs to know he'll have to cover if I'm late tomorrow."

"As soon as the channel is clear, Wonder Woman."

"Thank you. Wonder Woman out."

"Watchtower out."

Now I have a few minutes to wait. There isn't much point in getting up and going to bed yet. I expect Kal will call to ask about my message from Mr. Terrific.

A few minutes pass and I start to relax in the chair. Finally, I hear the telltale beep. "Wonder Woman," I answer.

"Diana. What are you doing in Metropolis?"

"Good evening, Kal. I figured you'd end up calling," I reply cheerily, in contrast to Kal's nearly demanding tone.

He sighs in defeat, quickly realizing he'll have to play along. "Good evening, Diana." His voice is more even, calmer. "Why would Mr. Terrific need to tell me you might miss your shift tomorrow?"

"Because Bruce and I are spending the night in the penthouse at the Metropolis Grande Hotel."

He pauses before replying. "Diana, don't you think you're moving too quickly?"

"Relax. Alfred and I are in the two bedrooms. Bruce offered me his room and is using a couch in the penthouse's living room. Haven't I told you to trust what I'm doing with my heart?"

"Yeah. Yeah, alright. Well, would you mind telling me what you're doing in Metropolis?"

It's tempting to tell him, but I'd rather let Lois get the chance to surprise him. "You're going to work tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. Usually do. Why do you ask?"

He might start to figure it out if I mention Lois by name. "You'll have to ask around."

"That's all you're going to give me, isn't it?"

I smile, a little surprised at myself for having fun dragging Kal along, for enjoying this little streak of mischievousness. I take a moment to stamp it down. "Sorry, Kal. It's not my surprise to reveal."

"Alright, fine. I'll just have to be patient and wait." He pauses again. "You know, I'm not going to be able to cover for you if you're late."

"I expected that. I just didn't want word going around the Watchtower that I'm in Metropolis to be with you. I think Shayera deals with enough questions about the foundering members as it is. Bruce and I don't need anyone getting confused. And for a moment I forgot that you went home after your shift. I asked Mr. Terrific to pass along the message so no one up in control would think I knew where you were."

"Alright, well, just try to be on time for your shift, Diana," he replies after a momentary silence.

"I plan on it, Kal. Don't worry. Bruce told me that he and Alfred are heading back to Gotham in the morning. They're leaving long enough before my shift starts that I've considered flying back with them."

"Be careful, Diana. What'd you say again? I've known him a lot longer than you have."

"Kal," I scold, "You worry about it too much."

"I hope so, Diana. I really do…" He pauses again. I think to respond, but he beats me to it. "Well, if not tomorrow, there's always the founder's meeting Thursday evening."

"Of course. I'll see you soon."

"Yup. Good night, Diana."

"Good night."

The channel closes and I'm left with only the near silence of my temporary bedroom. At last with nothing to do, I rise from the chair, only to look across the bed and notice the door to the attached bathroom. I move around the bed, deciding to spend a moment exploring it. The size of the bathroom is impressive and everything is very neat and clean, but a person can only spend so much time looking at a bathroom. Still, I look forward to my morning shower tomorrow.

Before long, the distraction is behind me and I'm back in the bedroom. I look down at the bed as I step up beside it and reach out. I straighten the sheets and blanket where Bruce had removed the pillows and then move to the other side to lift the covers away. I press my palms into the spotless fabric on the mattress as I uncover it, getting a feel for the mattress's softness.

"Well," I comment to myself aloud, "this is certainly going to be a lot more comfortable than my bed on the Watchtower…" I turn to the head of the bed, spot the posts at either end as they extend nearly four feet up from the room's floor. I smile, satisfied. "Good enough to hang my robe."

I remove the robe slowly, then hang it over the top of the post by the back of its neck. The robe in place, I climb into bed, practically sinking into the mattress before reaching for the covers to wrap over my nude form. I sigh contentedly to myself while closing my eyes and beginning to relax. "_Definitely_ satin," I whisper aloud to myself.

_'The end of a good day, all things considered.'_ There are still a few loose ends that need to be wrapped up, Bruce's little oddity from just before we said our good nights, for one. There's also the matter of Kal's excessive protectiveness. A little epiphany hits me. "That must be what drove Lois to wit's end!" I can certainly relate at the moment.

"Maybe Bruce is wrong. Maybe getting the four of us in a room together is exactly what we all need," I theorize.

A few ideas begin coming to me, but I finally stop myself, deciding to see if I can involve Bruce as well. The idea of 'involving Bruce' reminds me of another loose end. Bruce still needs to tell me about his past romances, so I know who he has been involved with. I'm sure there are a few more things to worry about, but as the luxurious mattress lulls me towards inevitable sleep, I can't bring myself to think about what they might be.

What I considered a good Monday quickly spreads into a good midweek. Tuesday morning had been interesting. Alfred had reacted much as Bruce predicted. As an added bonus, his very vocal approval of Bruce offering me the bedroom instead of the living room couch had been amusing.

Alfred had gone so far as to wash and even iron almost all of my clothing. The result was far and above what I had expected. Of course, it was also ready for me by the time I exited my room after indulging myself with a long, hot shower.

After breakfast, Bruce and I had joined Alfred in checking the rooms over to make sure we weren't leaving anything that belonged to either man. It was something Alfred was reluctant to allow, but appreciative of nonetheless. I stuck with the two of them for the car ride back to the airport. At the last minute, I decided to return to the Watchtower while still at the airport, the same way I had arrived.

Tuesday and Wednesday themselves turned out to be rather run-of-the-mill. The only spot of trouble had ironically been in Metropolis. I had ended up with an offset shift, from 9:00 to 3:00, to make up for the scheduling conflicts with the Leaguers originally scheduled from 6:00 to noon and noon to 6:00.

Only a couple minutes after eleven, Metallo had appeared downtown. His mechanical body seemed to have refreshed his mind. He had managed to escape League confinement, but he thought of himself as being in the wrong year. Kal had managed to suppress him with some assistance from Shayera.

The only loose end in the matter was how he had obtained the kryptonite to power himself. After being informed and asked to track down the kryptonite's origin, Bruce had come up to the Watchtower to take the kryptonite back to the Batcave. He had been thoughtful enough to pay me a real visit after arriving. We had even shared a few long, passionate kisses before I finally relinquished the kryptonite. While the opportunity was present, I also made sure to remind him not to forget to see me in the evening when he left for patrol.

Wednesday had been interesting in its own right. Lois's article had been published in that morning's issue of the Daily Planet. Kal hadn't been quite as upset about missing the byline as Bruce had led me to believe. When he came around on his way out for patrol Wednesday night, I asked him about it. He admitted that he had only mentioned it so he wouldn't have needed to tell me he really didn't want Kal there since both of them had once dated Lois.

Thursday afternoon is when things started to turn downhill. The morning had progressed smoothly enough. None of the founders have monitor duty shifts on days with scheduled founders' meetings. I managed to get a lot of training in through the morning. Shortly after noon, though, I received an unexpected call just as I was finishing up my lunch.

"Miss Diana?"

My hand darts immediately to my ear as I get up, turning away from the other occupants of my table and walking away. "Alfred?" I whisper in response.

"Ahh, Miss Diana. I do apologize for bothering you like this, but I believe Master Bruce needs your help."

"Bruce—he isn't hurt, is he?" The words come quickly out of my mouth, my tone nearly desperate as I immediately imagine the worst.

"No. No, he appears inexplicably distressed. I fear he will injure himself before long if he isn't careful. Miss Diana, I feel your assurances would be most helpful, so if you could, please come to the manor as soon as you are able. This simply is rather…difficult to explain without seeing what Master Bruce is doing."

"Alright, I'll be down shortly, Alfred." I turn back to my table and pick up my tray.

"Thank you. I will await your arrival in the cave," Alfred tells me as I apologize to my tablemates for having to leave early.

I begin to worry the moment I leave the commissary. I try to keep Alfred's assurances in mind, but all I can do is keep going back to the concern in his tone and his insistence that I help calm Bruce down. _'What could be wrong?'_ I worry what I will find when I reach the manor.

I rush as best I can to the elevator and then out from it when I arrive on the transporter deck. I float my way across the deck to the technician and the control console, setting down a few steps away and practically brushing the technician aside with an unexplained, "Excuse me."

I look up to the pads beyond and see Steel, Stargirl, S.T.R.I.P.E., and Vigilante ready to deploy to the surface. Bruce supersedes them in my mind. "Off. Now," I order. The four of them scramble off the transporter pads as I turn my attention back to the panels at my fingertips.

Again, I begin the procedure with a tap to my communicator. I authenticate myself before selecting the Batcave as my destination. The founders-only panels close automatically as the nearest transporter pad warms up and I wordlessly step out from behind the console to stand in place.

The transporter's light engulfs me, fills my vision. As quickly as it begins, it ends, the light fading away to reveal the Batcave in its full, partly-lit glory. Alfred is waiting near the Batcomputer and I jump to fly across the cave to him.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Miss Diana. Please, follow me upstairs."

"What's going on, Alfred? Where's Bruce?" The concern on my voice grows stronger with each word.

"I'm…not sure I know how to answer, Miss Diana." We step out from behind the grandfather clock in the study. Alfred resets the time, then leads me down a few hallways to the foyer.

"Master Bruce has become rather…obsessive."

"How is that any different than normal?" I can't help but ask as I lift my foot to the first step heading upstairs.

"It's _what_ he is fixated on that has me worried. He seems determined to tear his bedroom apart—to destroy it, if need be—but I cannot for the life of me determine why," Alfred answers.

That's all the information I need. "I'm going on ahead," I tell Alfred. A moment later, I lift myself from the stairs and fly past Alfred, grasping the railing and tossing myself over it before turning towards Bruce's room.

The flight down the hallway takes longer than it's ever seemed to, even when walking it in the past. I hear an uneven scraping sound just before I arrive, accompanied by Bruce groaning with effort. An instant later, my feet are on the ground and I take the last two steps to stop in the open doorway to his bedroom.

"Bruce!" I call out with worry as I round the corner and enter his bedroom.

The sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks. Not one piece of furniture is in its proper place. The bed is halfway across the room and turned at an angle. Both nightstands are upside down, one close to its original place near the wall. A bureau lies on its back almost dangerously close to the wall of floor-length windows. Piles of smaller objects lie scattered about the room.

In the middle of it all is Bruce. He's standing at the foot of a large folding ladder, his right foot on the first rung, his left hand holding firm, his right hand gripping a small electronic device. My arrival seems to have given him pause as well. It doesn't last long.

"Diana. Did Alfred call you?" He doesn't give me time to react. "No matter. You can help." He steps off the ladder and walks toward me, presenting the device in his open hand.

"What…"

"A scanning unit. I use it to search for interference, transmission signals, and the like." He stops in front of me and I begin lifting my hands. He turns his hand over and thrusts the device into my right hand. "I need you to sweep the ceiling. It'll be faster and safer than me moving that ladder around all afternoon."

"Bruce…I don't under—"

"Just check it!" he exclaims harshly. My jaw hangs loose and my eyes go wide with shock as I look up from my hand. After a moment, Bruce lifts his right hand, balling it into a tight fist. It quivers in the air for a moment and he brings it close to his head, leaning down until his forehead is nearly against it.

After a few long seconds of silence, Bruce seems to relax. His arm drops back to his side and he lifts his head, looking up to meet my gaze. "I'm sorry, Diana. I didn't mean to yell at you. Just…please."

Bruce turns away and walks back into the room, leaving me to look down at the device in my hands._ 'What is he searching for? Does he really expect to find something? What could be so important that he would tear his room apart like this? Why can't he just tell me what's going on?'_

Numerous other questions run through my mind, but only these keep repeating themselves, only these seem the most important. Eventually, I give in. With Bruce's current mood, I don't think I'll be able to get any more out of him.

My grip tightens around the device, a firm hold not strong enough to break it. The desperation in Bruce's final plea is the real driving force behind my own decision to act. He had sounded so…powerless. Like he were at the mercy of something he doesn't understand. If doing as he asked, if searching the room with this scanner will satisfy him, will mollify him if the search yields no results... I hold on to the hope that I can get him to explain himself.

Alfred arrives. I turn to him and give him a weak smile, holding up the scanner in my right hand, presenting it to him. His gaze travels to the scanner for a few moments, and then back to my face. His concern and confusion are evident. I have no answers for myself, let alone any to give him. I can only begin my assigned task before Bruce has another outburst.

I turn to the ceiling and begin floating upwards. I reach out, holding the device at the end of my reach and begin to sweep it across the ceiling. I go slowly, lingering in each area to make doubly sure I've swept through with the scanner multiple times.

I notice Bruce looking up at me from time to time. He looks up at me approvingly, but approval gives way to distress every time he realizes that my search seems hopelessly fruitless. When I finish, I look to Bruce and before I can tell him that the scanner didn't detect anything, he tells me, "Check the walls."

There isn't a point in arguing with him. I'm going to have to let his stubbornness wear him out. So, without a word, I begin to sweep the walls with the scanner. Sweeping all four walls takes far longer than the ceiling, especially by including the windows at Bruce's insistence.

When I finally finish, I land near him and hold up the scanner as I approach. He has probably already searched with the scanner wherever he could reach, so I'm confident he won't ask me to scan the floor next.

Anger flashes over Bruce's expression and he reaches down to the floor. He picks up the largest item within reach, one of the nightstands, and tosses it straight up into the air. "Master Bruce!" Alfred exclaims from far off to my left as Bruce winds himself up below the falling nightstand.

He lashes out with a powerful kick. His foot connects with the flat top with a loud smack, but luckily, the nightstand holds together. The kick instead sends it flying, on course to pass by me to my left. I remember the windows there and dive into the air to catch it.

I barely manage to catch the nightstand before it slips past the ends of my fingers, mere feet away from the large panes of glass. I pull it down below my head as I float over the floor, putting a halt to my drift before I get too close to the glass wall. I look back at Bruce, find him looking back at me, watching what had unfolded with amazement.

After a few moments, Alfred breaks the silence. "Master Bruce! What were you thinking? If Miss Diana had not been here to catch—"

"I know!" Bruce exclaims, his tone equal parts anger, humiliation, and pain. He turns away from me with a frustrated groan and walks to the edge of his bed. I take the opportunity to set the nightstand back on the floor and then stand again on my own feet.

He sits without a degree of elegance, practically falling back. His head falls immediately and he lifts his hands to his face, rubbing his fingers and palms up and down for a moment before resting his forehead against his palms and lowering his elbows to his knees. He gives a long sigh of exasperation.

"Bruce?" I ask, trying to sound sincerely concerned, trying to let him know with the simple utterance of his name that I am here for him, that I want to help him however I can.

"...Diana..." He turns his head a little towards Alfred, still standing by the door. His head doesn't leave his hands. "…Alfred…I'm sorry."

"Master Bruce, please. Just explain to us what is going on. What is all of _this_ about?"

Alfred's questions are my own. There is nothing I need to add, leaving me only the task of approaching Bruce. I do, admittedly with a degree of caution, and I am soon sitting to his left on the edge of his misplaced bed.

I reach toward him with my right hand, wrapping my fingers around his upper left arm. "Bruce?" I gently prompt.

He gives another sigh, then lifts his head from his hands. "I've been having these…dreams," he begins while folding his forearms between his knees. "…Nightmares…"

"Nightmares? You did all this for nightmares?" I ask with unavoidable skepticism.

"Yes and no," he begins. He pauses, looking towards the windows. His eyes narrow. "They aren't dreams. I don't know what they are, but they aren't dreams."

He turns to me, sitting straighter. "Dreams and reading are separate functions of separate hemispheres of the brain. You shouldn't be able to read anything while dreaming. I could. Something is interfering and I'm going to find out what."

"Even if it means tearing the manor apart?" I ask, with perhaps a little too much of an accusatory tone.

"There's something else." I lean closer, let my curiosity color my expression. "I don't remember a whole night."

"Bruce, you can't expect yourself to remember every moment of your life," I reply.

"Even if it's the night before the first dream?"

I pause, admittedly surprised by the timing. "When did all this start, Bruce?"

"Before our first date. You remember I called that morning to confirm what time your shift ended?" I look away, my eyes narrowing, my brow furrowed as I try to recall the whole of the conversation. I nod, letting it play out in my mind. "You thought something was wrong, that I was calling to cancel our date."

"Yes. I remember," I reply, not particularly enjoying the memory.

"I was in a panic. I had just woken up from the first dream. I was afraid you hated me. I needed to hear your voice. It wasn't until a few days later that I realized I couldn't remember the night leading up to it. I still don't know how I got home that night, what I did on patrol."

"You seemed very calm to me, Master Bruce. It didn't appear that anything was wrong. The only thing that seemed odd was that you only spent twenty minutes at the computer after returning home."

Bruce turns to Alfred, points to him. "And _that_ is all I have to go by."

It all seems too far-fetched. "Maybe it's all one, big—" I start, but Bruce interrupts me before I can finish.

"I don't believe in coincidences, Princess. Something else is going on," he says while turning back to me.

"I've had what seems like a single, ongoing dream. I get a night or two of peaceful sleep after each segment. It's been a few days since the last one. It's a sure bet I'll have another dream tonight. I'm overdue."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading.

If the night missing from Bruce's memory sounds new, that's because I forgot to explicitly mention it before the ending of Memory. Fixed.


	7. Pain

**Author's Note:** Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

"Well, what sort of things are you…_not_ dreaming about?" Diana asks.

_'I can't tell her.'_ I glance about my bedroom for a moment. With everything strewn about like this, there's no way Diana or Alfred would do anything but overreact. _'Not yet, not everything.'_ I bring my focus back to Diana. "Bad premonitions. We don't have time to talk about it."

Diana turns from me, trading glances with Alfred. "Bruce, look at yourself, look at your bedroom. Make time." Her voice is so gentle, so kind and loving, but still so commanding.

I shake my head, afraid that my voice will betray me. I don't want her to know what I've been seeing. I don't want her to know that somewhere that's not even real, her best friend has killed her first lover. I don't want to tell her that some version of herself is geared for war, prepared to bring her best friend to justice or, failing that, kill him.

Alfred comes to my rescue. He passes around ahead of me. I look up as he walks, find him looking back at me with a knowing expression. As he comes around, I see Diana lift her focus to him as well. "Miss Diana, perhaps it would be for the best if, at this time…" His words trail off as he starts reaching forward to place his right palm atop her shoulder.

I turn my attention from Alfred to Diana, waiting for her response. She looks to me as well, then looks back up at the kindly face of my oldest friend and ally. Finally, she looks down and closes her eyes. "Fine." She is definitely angry about being forced to make the decision. She stands quickly, looks back at me. "Start moving things out of the way, _I_ have to move your bed and bureaus without scratching your floor up any more than _you_ already have."

I rise, not in the mood for disputes. I'm not sure if there's anything to make up yet, but I certainly don't want to upset Diana any more than I have. I need to figure a way to explain things to Diana, to myself, but first and more importantly, I need to figure out how to go about investigating these…dreams, for lack of a better word.

As Diana, Alfred, and I work to rebuild my bedroom, I keep thinking about my newly complex situation. It wasn't just Diana, but also Alfred who was hearing about my experiences for the first time. I had managed to brush his questions off after the first dream. The second had also awoken me before he reached my room, but rather than eschewing reason in the face of panic, I had taken the time to start getting up before Alfred had arrived with hot coffee and a warm greeting.

I can't help noticing as we work that Diana's mood seems to be improving. Our mindless tasks seem to distract and mellow her. By the end, I even spot her smiling again. She takes great interest and gives special attention to detail in the things she places about the room once the furniture is replaced.

I take a little bit of guilt in my amusement over it. She asks Alfred and I about various trinkets, souvenirs, keepsakes, and gifts. For the most part, she only asks to know where the items go, but she asks for background on a number of others. Where they are from. Why I have them. What they are for or what they do.

When at last only the ladder remains waiting in the hallway, my signal scanner resting on one of the rungs, Diana decides to stop. "Alright, Bruce, I'll let you off the hook for now. We both need to head up for this evening's meeting."

I nod with understanding before answering. "Thank you, Diana. I'll try to explain it once I understand what is happening." A twitch runs through the muscles below my left eye. _'Why did I promise that?'_ Who knows how long that could take? Least of all me.

"Well, if we get some time after the meeting, I'd much rather you try to explain it regardless."

"And if I may be so bold," Alfred interjects, "I would like to be present for such an explanation."

Diana turns at Alfred's words. "Of course, Alfred." She has a plotting smile on her lips as she turns back to me. "I'll drag him home from the Watchtower if I have to."

I clear my throat loudly. "Shouldn't you be heading up soon? We shouldn't be seen arriving at the same time, should we?"

Diana takes a deep breath, but soon nods her agreement. "Just don't think you're getting out of anything here, Bruce."

She crosses to where I'm standing and takes hold of my wrist. She pulls me quickly from the room. "Especially this…" she says once we're in the hallway. After trailing off, Diana lifts her hands to the edges of my jacket and pushes my back against the wall, her grip tightening as she follows her hands.

I can't help but note there is no threat here as Diana begins tipping a little to the side while lifting her lips toward mine, her eyes already closed. Some piece of me is surprised to find myself savoring this unabashed display of affection. Some infinitely smaller piece of me is more concerned with my response while it tries its hardest to remind me that I am the night.

Almost before the thoughts complete, my hands have found Diana's waist. I can feel the gentle warmth of her skin, even through her armor's fabrics. Somehow, her presence eases my concerns, gives me hope that I'll figure out what I'm dreaming and why.

The feeling lingers even after her lips fall away. Alfred steps out of my room after a few moments more, having given us a respectful amount of time to ourselves. He comes to a stop facing Diana. "Will you be using the cave, Miss Diana?"

"No," she replies with a shake of her head. I find my gaze drawn to her long sheets of sable as it all waves gently behind her moving head. "I don't think I should return to the Watchtower from the cave when I visit Bruce."

_'It's a good idea. I should have brought it up earlier.'_ Alfred seems to agree. He nods, lifts his hand, motioning down the hallway, back towards the foyer. "Then might I suggest a walk by the gardens in the yard before you leave?"

Diana nods to Alfred, then turns back and gives me an encouraging smile. She turns back to Alfred as she lets me go, both of our hands falling to our sides. "Yes, that sounds wonderful."

Alfred motions again and Diana turns. He leads even while walking alongside Diana as they leave me to myself. The idea is a little chilling. _'Alone in my investigation, in this mystery. It's as fitting as it is unsettling. How could I tell Alfred what I've seen, what I've experienced? What if I'm wrong and it is a dream, some form of reflection of my self? A metaphor for subconscious needs? An embodiment of my own fear? A supposition exploring how the League itself is wrong, how CADMUS might have been right from the start.'_

After CADMUS had been dismantled, Waller had proven herself invaluable to the League's efforts, integral especially to our cooperation with the U.S. government. She's more than once spoken with me about our operations, described it to me as "your League." There was no question that the "your" was singular. _'As though the League could...belong to me...'_

I let my thoughts wander for a few minutes more as I head for the foyer, still undecided about what I will do next. Finally, I reign my mind's wanderings in and start my descent to the Batcave. Diana has given me nearly an hour. Now that I know nothing has been planted in my room, the best place I can be is at the Batcomputer.

I save myself a few minutes at the end of my hour by changing into my Batsuit as soon as I arrive downstairs. I hear the grandfather clock opening nearly ten minutes after I take my seat. Alfred descends slowly, finally coming to a stop beside me. "Diana?" I prompt.

"Safely away, sir. She quite enjoyed the gardens before calling up to be recalled to the Watchtower." He takes a step to his right, standing almost against the front edge of the Batcomputer's keyboard console. He looks down at me, staying still until I finally turn my head.

"Master Bruce, I don't mean simply to persist in annoying you, but I do hope that you will tell us _something_ on the matter of your dreams before you must leave for your nightly patrol." He pauses, giving me the chance to respond. "Do we not deserve to know? Perhaps if you were to borrow Leslie's ear it would be easier to speak."

"No. It isn't a matter of nerve," I reply before he can get any additional ideas.

A new thought enters my mind. _'If it isn't technology, perhaps it's a telepathic connection, forcing the sights and sounds on my mind while I sleep.'_ But who to ask to explore the possibility. The only one I can really trust with something of this nature is J'onn, but I simply _don't_ like the idea of someone—anyone—poking around inside my mind. The pain of my parents' murder is mine and mine alone to bear. It's not something I want to share and certainly not with an ally like J'onn.

Better to find another solution. _'Maybe Alfred's right and Leslie could—no, she has enough to worry about at my father's clinic without me coming in to talk about strangely vivid, violent dreams in which I've experienced my own death and am now a mere observer.'_

There aren't many others I would be willing to speak with. If I had Hugo Strange's thought recording machine, I could record the recollection of the dreams and perhaps find some sort of detail hidden in the imagery. Too bad I destroyed that myself.

I'd rather turn to someone I know, someone I can trust. An idea hits me and I lift my right hand, my forefinger extended as I shake my hand towards the Batcomputer's monitor once. _'Zatanna!'_

Alfred barely waits ten seconds. "Might I ask what you've thought of, Master Bruce?"

I turn, once again realizing my mistake in forgetting his presence. I turn back to the Batcomputer for a moment, noting the time. Twenty-three minutes until 6:00 p.m. and probably between eighteen and twenty minutes before I'll need to leave. Not enough time to get any work done with Zatanna.

"If there's nothing technologic in my room that's at play, it might be something magical. I'll need Zatanna to help me investigate that." As I speak, I access the Justice League communication systems and key into Zatanna's personal communicator.

"Batman to Zatanna," I begin once the connection is established and secure.

"Zatanna here," she answers after a few moments.

"I need your help with an investigation."

"Ahh. Something magical, then?"

"Possibly. I need to see if I can confirm it or rule it out."

"Alright. Would you mind waiting until tomorrow, though? I'm in the middle of a tour. I'm doing a show tonight in Central City. My next show is this weekend in Metropolis, so I'll have more time after tonight and I'll be closer anyhow."

"Fine. Drop by when you're available."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good. Batman out." I wait for Zatanna to respond, then close out the channel and start to think again.

Magic isn't something I much care for. It bends the rules of reality, makes the impossible possible. Diana's powers come from Amazonian magic or directly from her Greek gods, but the use of magic isn't always a good thing, as her adopted Amazonian sister Aresia would have proven if mages like Morgaine Le Faye, her son Mordred, and Felix Faust hadn't beaten her to it. Having to fight Etrigan to keep the manipulated demon from killing Jason Blood hadn't helped either, since magic is what split the two beings apart.

To distract myself for a few minutes, I rise, letting Alfred follow me as I head for the gym. I'm not sure if he'll ask again or if he'll decide simply to wait until I'm ready to talk. I'm a little relieved that by the time I reach the punching bags, Alfred is no longer behind me. I don't like worrying him, but I can't talk about the dreams just yet, not when I don't know how to explain them or what to do about them.

I keep myself active in the gym until it's nearly the top of the hour. I let myself calm as I cross the cave to the transporter pad. After a few moments at its control panel, it begins to power on. I step onto the circular pad and let the machinery do its work.

In the middle of the lightshow, I blink, holding my eyes shut for long enough to open them to the Watchtower's transporter deck. I step off the pads, passing the transporter technician without a word, though I notice as I pass that he logs me into the system. I head directly for the elevator and head up towards the founders' conference room.

When I come off the elevator and walk down the hallway towards the conference room door, I spot Diana waiting outside. "Diana." A greeting when I am close enough to avoid raising my voice, spoken in the Bat's voice, but almost cordially.

Diana turns her head to me, her arms still folded beneath her bust, still leaning back against the wall beside the door with her feet crossed. Her eyes narrow for the briefest of moments, then she clears her throat pointedly. "Batman."

She remains still against the wall until I stop beside her. I'm not quite sure why she is out here. We barely have two minutes before the meeting is scheduled to begin. Her tone indicates she is still frustrated by my refusal to explain the dreams, but I don't think she would confront me like this over it.

"You can greet me a little more warmly, you know." I breathe an inward sigh of relief, the dreams aren't her concern right now. "We're the last two. I wanted to forewarn you."

"What about?"

"Kal brought extra copies of the Daily Planet."

"Let me guess, the edition with Lois Lane's interview."

"Would there be another worth handing out to the rest of the founders?"

I only groan in response as I turn my head, looking past Diana to the conference room door and Superman and the others beyond it. I can only imagine our interview will be connected to every item on Superman's agenda for the evening. I sigh with exasperation and turn back to Diana. "Let's get this over with."

Diana nods as she leans away from the wall and her arms fall to her sides. We step towards the door and I key us in before letting Diana pass through the doorway ahead of me. I stay close behind her for a couple steps, letting her head and hair block my view of the conference table and what I'm sure I will see.

Sure enough, before the door even closes, I hear the rustling of newspaper from first one location, then a second, and soon after a third. When we are closer to the table, Diana can no longer keep the conference table from my view. When I step to the left, moving past her to my chair as she sits down, I let my cowl hide my eye movements as I scan the table quickly.

Not one of them is without the Daily Planet in their hands. Superman, J'onn, and John are all holding theirs normally in both hands, though Superman is leaning back in his chair, the angle nearly hiding him behind the paper once I am seated. Flash and Shayera have both folded theirs back a few times to hold a more condensed paper casually in one hand.

"Huh… I didn't know you guys danced in Paris." I turn to Flash. I can't say I'm surprised he is the first to speak.

"And you never told me he's as good a kisser as the tabloids say, Diana," Shayera adds.

Diana jerks her head towards the Thanagarian. "Wait. What?" she demands. She turns back to Flash and rips the newspaper from his hand. "Where does it say that?" she asks no one in particular while scanning the page to see how much of it is Lois's article.

A couple moment later she finds the line. She quickly reads the entire paragraph around it. "I told her I had no point of reference because I don't read tabloids!" she exclaims in frustration.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before turning to my right. "Diana," I say more soothingly than should come from Batman's lips. _'Just stop before you tell everyone that Lois answered her own question after you tried…'_ The words nearly escape me.

Instead, when Diana turns to me, I give her a small nod before turning to Kent. "_Superman_, shouldn't we begin?"

"We don't have to yet, _Bruce_," he replies with emphasis to match mine.

Even in his full costume, right now, he is Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet, and he's going to drag this out, force me to be Bruce Wayne for a while longer. Maybe I should have let him in on the interview, given him the chance at sharing the byline.

"Have you seen which of Jimmy's pictures they chose for the article?" he then asks.

"…No." For the most part, I don't think I want to know, not here, surrounded by the original League. Unfortunately, Diana decides to help me out, passing Flash's folded copy down the table towards me.

I nearly push it back to her, but I have the feeling she will not let me avoid it. Still, I hesitate before looking down. "I suppose it was one of the better pictures," Diana tells me. Now I have to know.

I look down and nearly breathe a sigh of relief. Lois had picked a photograph of Diana and I standing by the Daily Planet windows, facing the camera and shoulder-to-shoulder. My right arm is hooked around Diana's left, hands joined between us and my left in her right. James had stood far enough to the side to eliminate glare from the window, giving the image a clear backdrop of the Metropolis skyline. At least it's one from the innocuous majority of the photographs and not one of us hugging or kissing.

"Gotta say, Bruce, you move quickly. Didn't realize you two were already so close." I turn back to Superman and wait for him to explain himself while I try to think of what part of the interview he is referring to. "When asked where the couple might live if they were to move in with one another, Wonder Woman answered, 'I would probably move into Wayne Manor. I couldn't bring myself to ask Alfred to part with the manor.' Alfred Pennyworth has been with the Wayne family for two generations now. Will he see the start of a third before retiring?" he reads, adding emphasis to dramatize it a little.

"She omitted Diana saying we hadn't discussed it yet," I explain quickly.

I lift my head towards the door. There's an analogue clock above it, nothing but hands and four marker lines at the top, bottom, and sides of the hour. It's barely been five minutes since Diana and I sat down.

I keep checking the clock as the meeting slowly continues. Until Superman finally gets us on track for League matters and some world politics at the bottom of the hour, I can't even call it progress. The League business lasts only another five minutes after. Well, for me it does.

"Are you sure you couldn't use some extra help in Gotham, Bruce?" Superman's token question, asked on occasion when he hears that crime is rising in Gotham. Sometimes he asks it when feeling a little guilty, too. I suspect the latter is the case now.

I turn back from the clock, estimating the time as 6:35. "If you're that worried about Gotham, I can certainly leave now and get to work." I rise from my chair, not waiting for an answer, in fact eager for the out.

I have to ignore Diana's protests as I leave the room. I'm back in the hallway in mere seconds. The door almost closes behind me before halting and opening up again. I glance back as the hallway bends, just in time to see Diana rush out of the room. She turns and gives chase.

"Br—Batman!" she exclaims just before landing a hand on my shoulder. I lift mine to hers, hold it there as I keep moving, not stopping until I am standing before the elevator. Diana proves my guess correct when I finally turn to find her floating back down to the floor.

"I've called in Zatanna. She's going to help me investigate tomorrow, help me determine if there is a connection to magic. I'll let you know when I have the results of our investigation."

Diana looks down for a moment, then begins shaking her head in a narrow arc as she lifts her chin back up toward me. Resignation again, but this time it's welcome. "Alright. Fine. Do what you need to. I won't bother you about it anymore. Just…before you go."

The hint is made more obvious when Diana lifts her hands to my chest. I wrap my arms around her waist and tip my head down for a simple kiss, merely holding our lips pressed together. It doesn't last too long, or long enough if Diana's follow-up is any indicator. She starts with a pair of near kisses, light brushes of lip against lip, then leans in for a more passionate kiss, gradually pushing my back to the wall and holding herself against me.

When she finally pulls back, our ragged breathing is nearly a perfect match. I find my hands rubbing Diana's sides, ignoring the fabrics between our skin.

"Go," Diana tells me in a quiet, loving voice as she reaches past me to my right to press the elevator's call button, "but promise me that if things _do_ get too overwhelming, you'll call _me_ to help. That goes for this investigation and patrol." I nod after a moment, despite hoping that it will never come to that, but mostly, I'm just glad that her love for me hasn't diminished.

I return to the cave after bidding Diana a good night's rest and receiving her well wishes in reply. Alfred is waiting for my arrival, but I quickly explain that Diana agreed to wait until after my investigation with Zatanna. Luckily, he doesn't put up an argument either.

With Alfred satisfied for the time being, I climb into the Batmobile for the first time since Diana and I originally went to Gotham Delizioso. The reporters of Gotham had, for the most part, given up on getting an interview after Lois's was published. Only Summer Gleeson still seemed more than passingly interested in talking to me and she was looking for something to air on Gotham Insider. The first televised interview.

I think I'll end up giving the interview. With or without Diana doesn't matter much at the moment, but I imagine she would want her there to one-up Lois's newspaper interview. Fortunately, I can ignore it for now, maybe until after these dreams are sorted out. I know Summer well enough to ask for a little patience.

Patience. The night demands it from me in scads. At the same time, it proves me right, there was at least some guilt on Clark's part for letting talk of Lois's interview take so long. I only barely need two hands to count the number of crimes that I break up tonight. The most exciting part of patrol is a quick stop at Rupert Thorne's to drag him out of bed and warn him that I know what he's doing in the Lower East Side before slamming him into a wall and leaving while he was still disoriented.

Alfred offers me a hot cup of coffee when I arrive home earlier than usual, but I decline, planning to update my logs and head upstairs to sleep. Alfred at least seems happy to hear my decision, then leaves me to my own faculties as he returns to the manor with the coffee. It's only a quarter of an hour later when I follow after him to retire for the night.

Once I'm finally in bed, I let my mind wander. Eventually, I try to prepare myself for what I expect will be tonight's dream, as I have been doing for each of the past three nights. _'I wish I had a better word for them.'_

The first thing I do is go over the previous dreams, looking for points of conflict. Aside from Diana's refusal to acknowledge me and Superman's jarring violence, the only thing that truly stands out at me is that Diana knew about the kryptonite vault behind the costume display cases.

It isn't long after I finish revisiting the dreams that I finally fall asleep. I have no idea how long it lasts, but I feel myself sleeping. An emptiness, a calming void. Sight with nothing to see, hearing with no sounds to hear. It only seems to last an instant, but this familiar feel of dreamless sleep always does seem timeless, at once infinitely long and unimaginably short.

It ends in a blur of light. I feel myself being dragged and before I can truly process the change, I spot Diana, tumbling head-over-heels backward through the air in the main transporter deck of the Watchtower. I'm being dragged along behind her, my perspective again focused on and tethered to the Themysciran princess.

A moment later, she slams into the exterior wall of the Watchtower, in the middle of a large gap between two segments of window. Her back hits with a bang, the metal bending, leaving an imprint of her body as she sinks into it.

"What do you think you're doing, Diana?" Shayera demands at nearly the top of her lungs, her mace held at the ready for another swing. Superman is in the air behind her, doing his best to regain his strength even as he loses altitude.

Diana begins extricating herself from the wall, trying to be careful to keep from rupturing the hull. Her right hand pops free and the chunk of kryptonite held in her closed fist falls to the floor below her when her hand opens a little further than she probably meant to allow.

She scrambles the rest of the way from the wall and immediately dives forward to retrieve the alien shard. She looks up to find Shayera charging her. Diana jumps into the air to meet her and reaches out to catch the mace with her bracelets. She delivers a stunning kick, then turns to flee. Just before she gets far enough for my consciousness to begin dragging along behind her, I notice the foam-covered, once-flaming remains of the transporter. Diana must have destroyed them after arriving. She has cut off the only form of quick reinforcements or escape.

Diana looks back and I shift my focus behind her as well, seeing Shayera in pursuit. Suddenly, Diana stops. She turns back to Shayera and lifts her arms to defend herself. "_He_ killed Batman!" she shouts just before Shayera begins swinging at her. "It wasn't any sort of accident!"

She blocks the first two attempted strikes, but then she catches the third attack. She brings the Nth metal weapon to a full stop against her magical bracelets and then grabs its handle with one hand and Shayera's wrist with the other. Before the kryptonite can even drop from her hand to the floor, Diana rips hand from mace and is left holding Shayera's mace in her left hand and Shayera herself in her right.

She spins around once, taking Shayera along for the short ride before throwing her. It's then that I notice the escape pods along the wall. With perfect aim, Shayera lands in the back of one of the pods, the impact dazing her. Diana rushes to the wall, pressing the launch key and then tossing the mace inside before the redheaded Thanagarian can even react.

Diana watches for long enough to be sure that Shayera can't try her own little space walk before heading back towards the battlefield in the transporter deck. She arrives to find Superman on his feet, supported by a half dozen of the Watchtower's purple-clad staffers.

He looks up at Diana and his eyes widen at the realization that Shayera is not coming back. His expression hardens a moment later and I notice a glow to his eyes. Diana stops in midair to scream out in pain, nearly howling. I spot why quickly from my formless perspective. He is boring a hole through her hand to try to destroy the kryptonite before she can use it again.

When Diana stops, anger flashes over her expression. She turns from Superman to her hand, examining the hole Superman melted through her hand very quickly. The hole is at the end of her palm, almost centered between the knuckles of her middle and ring fingers. She might be able to use the appendage, but certainly not immediately and not without a lot of pain if she can move it at all.

She finally opens her hand, slowly at first, revealing a palm empty but for a pile of loosely fused kryptonite dust. It falls apart like sheets of brittle sandstone in the open air. Beneath it, I can already see her enhanced, Amazonian healing at work on her hand, closing the hole burned and melted by Superman.

Now without so effective a weapon, Diana charges ahead. The staffers supporting Superman drop him and flee, trying to get away from Diana and having nowhere to truly run away to. She bowls him over, locking her arms around him and keeping herself behind him, her right arm below his chin.

"Why, Kal? How could you kill Batman? 'Impaled on a pipe in an explosion'—how _dare_ you lie to my face like that!"

_'Wait! Superman told Alfred, not Diana! How could he have told her? Diana was asleep in my bed at the time.'_

Superman's hands, already wrapped around Diana's forearm, begin to pull her arm away. Finally, he manages to get himself an opening and pulls Diana's arms the remainder of the way from his neck. He lifts his right arm and then slams his elbow back, into Diana's gut. He turns with a burst of superhuman speed while tripping Diana up and landing atop her.

"Because of you! For you!" Superman yells back. His expression grows ever more grim. "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch him reject you time and again for years? How it feels to watch as one of your best friends destroys another? How it feels to know that I could have stopped this from ever happening if I had just said _something_ before the 11th hour countdown began?"

Diana pushes Superman off of her and lifts herself to deliver a swift kick to the side of his face. "You thought killing the man I've spent _years_ pining over would placate me, could ever make me..._happy_?"

She punches Superman in the face, magical strength and honed combat skills landing on alien strength and pure power given human form. Superman's head twists at his neck beneath the force of Diana's attack. "I…" She delivers another powerful punch. "…would have..."A small series of punches, all landing against Superman's jaw. "…given him another chance…" Diana lowers her hand to knock the air from Superman's lungs. "All I needed was time to _forgive him_!"

Diana slams her left elbow against Superman's chest, just above the emblem on his suit's chest. She reaches under her bracelet with her right hand and pulls a small metal plate from beneath. She throws it to her right and Superman immediately begins having trouble with his struggles. "I will _not_ forgive what you've done!"

Diana reaches back beneath her bracelet. She soon pulls her hand free again and in it, holds the second shard of kryptonite between her thumb and first two fingertips. She holds it to Superman's collarbone. He begins crying out in pain, struggling beneath her. "Did Bruce suffer when you _murdered_ him? Can you even imagine what it would be like for him, to be betrayed and killed by one you hold in such high regard? You're about to find out first-hand!"

Diana lifts her hand away and then immediately thrusts the kryptonite back down, her fingers providing the support as she forcibly, violently injects the kryptonite into Superman's chest. His mouth falls open. His eyes widen to their limits. He tries to cry out in pain, but he produces almost no sound.

Before long, he falls still and silent. The Man of Steel, Krypton's last son, dead, his life taken in response to the life he took beforehand. Maybe revenge, maybe vengeance, but maybe as a way to bring the balance of justice to the world left behind.

The Watchtower staff seem to crawl out of the woodwork all around the room. Likewise, other League members appear, most of them injured, unable to fight. A young woman approaches a little past the other staffers. She asks a question that I admit has crossed my own mind as well. "What happens now? What will happen to the League, to all of us?"

Diana pulls her hand from Superman's chest. Slowly, she rises to her feet. "Nothing, Susan. There is no League. Not anymore…"

Falling silent again, Diana crosses the uneven floor, pockmarked with impact craters, back to the elevators. She gets in and my perspective is squeezed inside as the doors close behind her. The moment she is sealed inside, Diana draws her lips back and closes her eyes. She lifts her hands, clutching her elbows as she wraps her arms across her stomach. She leans forward, her hair falling in front of her shoulders as she nearly doubles over while unleashing a long, almost soundless scream of anguish and pain.

When it ends, she drops to her knees. There, in the small space of the elevator with only my unreal self present to witness it, Diana begins to cry. It's painful for me to hear, yet I can do nothing but watch.

More painful than the crying are her occasional utterances. "Bruce," "I'm sorry," and "I still love you" are the hardest to listen to. All I want to do is wrap myself around her. Let her tears stop and just_ be_, just _be there_ for her.

Is this what it all adds up to? Is this what I am supposed to see? Is this why my dreams have tortured me? What am I supposed to learn from this?

The scenery around me now, the violence of this and past dreams, Diana's words. Each pass through my thoughts. Finally, a thought breaks away from the nebula of ideas swimming in my consciousness. This all started with me, by rejecting Diana. In reality, she listened to my apology, forgave me. Here, she wouldn't even hear me out. She left to cool off, not to reject me again.

I died at Superman's hands because of it. He died by Diana's hand. I died so Superman could protect Diana. Superman died because of his misunderstanding, because she did not want protection, because she wasn't done. She couldn't give up on me, on us, even though in my last moments, I had.

Waller was right after all. I have never claimed any ownership over the League, but my funding keeps it going. My funding brought it together under Superman's more charismatic influence. The original League prepared itself to continue on after Superman's apparent death. Our expanded League was prepared to continue on without the founders, even if they had to work alone again.

I intimidate if not inspire fear in friend and foe alike. I lack utterly in supernatural strength and abilities. Yet in these dreams, without even a shadow of the financial implications to speak of, my death has led to the end of the League. I can't help but think the same could happen in reality.

My thoughts shift back to Diana. The elevator door is open to the Javelin bay. She is still on the floor, her left foot extended, blocking the doorway and keeping the doors from closing again. She is quivering, shaking. She has stopped talking, but her tears continue to fall.

Her sobs are still eating at me. I remember my own anguish from my parents' murder. I can imagine the guilt overwhelming her. He said in no uncertain terms that he killed me for her. She must live with that knowledge, that weight on her shoulders. All she could do was tell him he was wrong. She made sure he knew that much before killing him.

But even his death did nothing to ease her longing, her pain.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thanks for reading.


	8. Selfish

**Author's Note:** This chapter made it for a Wednesday posting. And now, I'm glad to say, the edits have as well. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

I relax for a moment, leaning back and looking up, past the monitors to the ceiling. "A week, Diana?" I sigh while pulling my arms back from the monitor controls.

_'How could I let him just get away with this for a whole week?'_ I lean over my right elbow on the arm of the monitor womb chair. I move my left arm back a few inches so my hand is on the end of the other arm. I let my forefinger begin its tapping again. There's a small divot forming in the metal beneath where my fingertip has struck so many times.

Bruce has been…friendlier, kinder, and more accommodating lately. Even as Batman, he hasn't been as standoffish, as…dark. Somehow I have let his behavior cloud my judgment whenever he makes an excuse about his dreams. I've tried to be delicate about asking, as if pushing too hard might undo all the progress he seems to be making. The only positive, if it could be called one, is that Alfred and I are still on the same page. Alfred just hasn't bothered to ask again. Two different tactics, the same results.

Reporters aren't waiting at the manor anymore, either, so Bruce is free to drive or fly as needed into Gotham again. If I'm going to be honest with myself, I was disappointed to hear that he wouldn't need to use the Watchtower.

So, on the first night he went back into Gotham normally, I had to make sure I was still drinking iced mocha when he showed up at my bedroom door to visit before beginning his patrol. He's managed to find me almost every night since. The only time I missed him, I wasn't even aboard the Watchtower, I was leading a team for tsunami relief in the south Pacific.

I hear the monitor womb door slide open behind me. It's far too early for the end of my shift. I'm confident by the silence that it's Bruce, but I'm a little too frustrated about his dreams to turn and greet him yet.

Evidently, he sees fit to take advantage of my refusal to turn. Once again, I miss his stealthy approach. The first I hear of him is a whisper in my left ear. "Good evening, Diana." He gently kisses the edge of my ear, then drops his lips down and kisses the side of my neck. After a moment more, he kisses me again a few short inches away, where my neck and shoulder meet.

A moan escapes me as a hum of pleasure. Without thinking, I tip my head to my right, inviting him to continue with an offer of better access. He takes the opportunity without hesitation, kissing all along my shoulder and neck, adding in tiny nips with his teeth and spots of suction against my skin. At the same time, I feel his hands on my upper arms, just below my joints. Bare skin. He must have taken his gloves off before coming in, I never heard him doing it.

His hands begin moving down my arms. His lips roam up and down my neck, back and forth across my shoulder. His lips brush lightly across my skin, pausing almost at random to plant a kiss, a nip, or a quick suck and a nibble. His breath is a warm caress on my skin.

His hands continue apace until finally, they reach mine. He splays his fingers, places them directly atop mine, covering each hand completely. He plants a quick trail of kisses up my neck and, just when he kisses the bottom of my left ear, he slips his fingers between mine and wraps them around beneath my palm.

He gives the edge of my ear another kiss and then whispers, "There's a high-speed chase in Metropolis. Aren't you going to do something about it?"

"Let Kal handle it."

"He's in Africa fighting a brush fire in the savanna." His lips leave my ear, moving the short distance to kiss between the back of my ear and the roots of my hair.

Another moan escapes as a hum past my closed lips and my smile. "By Hera, Bruce, I'll put you in the infirmary if you expect me to go or plan to do something about it yourself."

"No. I was going to suggest Steel."

Bruce pulls his left hand back to my elbow and I extend my arm to the consoles. With a press of a button, I'm in the communication system. "Watchtower to Steel." I let the system handle all the work. After a moment processing, the system connects me and relays my words.

"Steel here. Go ahead."

"There's a high-speed car chase downtown in Metropolis."

"Understood. And…it just passed outside. I'll handle it. Steel out."

The channel closes automatically. Bruce pulls my focus back to him with a kiss on my cheek. I turn my head back to Bruce and he meets my lips with his. I feel his left hand leave mine completely as I close my eyes and as our lips gently work at one another's. The missing hand finds me again when he cups my chin and the side of my jaw.

He lifts my chin higher, then slides his hand back, weaving his fingers into my hair as he moves it around to the back of my head. His right hand comes loose from mine a moment later and I don't feel it again until it touches my lower right side. He lifts and pulls with his hand, moving me closer as his hand slides slowly higher, stopping with his fingers tantalizingly close to my right breast.

Despite myself, a moan of protest escapes me, but it's nearly lost against Bruce's lips. He takes the hint, but his response is even more frustrating. He runs his hand across to my left, centering his palm on my chest with his fingers now below my bust on my left side. _'He's doing this to me on purpose...'_

I consider protesting once more when Bruce's tongue brushes against my lip. The sensation pushes the almost thoughtless lightness settling in my mind back enough to remind me that we _have_ tongues to kiss with. He pulls his lips away and this time I notice the movement, realizing that his nose is not on the same side of mine as when we started.

I open my eyes and look up into his for a moment. There's a smile on his lips that I'm happy to see is lighting up his eyes. That's all I have time to notice before he leans back down to begin again.

I press the end of my tongue against his upper lip and he gets the hint immediately. His tongue presses against the underside of mine and we close out lips around our joined linguae. The taste of Bruce's tongue, the inside of his lip, it fills my head again, intoxicates me. Our tongues pull apart as our lips close. Bruce pulls back to put his nose back on my left before giving me my turn.

I can't stifle a moan of pleasure when my turn arrives and our lips meet. I feel Bruce's tongue and immediately capture it first with my tongue and then my lips. I savor him as much as I can. I luxuriate in the feel of him, the taste of him. I let the experience refresh old memories of the last time we shared so intimate a kiss, even as I commit everything about this moment to a new memory.

It's over too soon and for all the wrong reasons. Bruce straightens abruptly, tearing his lips and tongue from mine just as we were beginning to wind our kiss down. When I open my eyes a moment later to demand an explanation, I see that he is standing tall and has pulled his cowl back into place, wondrous blue covered by cold white.

His bare hands disappear beneath his dark cloak, where I'm sure he hides the action of replacing his gloves. "Thank you for your help, Wonder Woman. Contact me if you find anything else." His voice is loud, much more so than necessary, and without any of his previous emotion.

He begins to turn before I can respond. My expression turns from confused surprise to frustration. I'm halfway to lifting my arm to lash out at him when I notice the monitor womb door past him is nearly all the way open. Bruce gets a few long steps from my chair and then Black Canary steps out of his path, giving him a very wide berth as she lets him pass.

_'He must have heard her coming in.'_ There isn't really another explanation. Suddenly it's a lot easier for me to forgive Bruce. Dinah takes his place earning my ire. There's an amusing irony in that. I'd be tempted to laugh if not for the fact that a small, spiteful part of myself is busy thinking back to the night of my first date with Bruce, regretting my apologetic gesture as I left Dinah behind on my way to get ready.

A few moments later, Bruce is gone, vanishing back into the hall as the doors close, leaving me alone with Black Canary. She steps up to my chair and only makes me wait a few breaths. I take advantage of the reprieve as best I can, calming my nerves and trying to push thought and sensation of Bruce from my mind.

"Wonder Woman, I'm covering for Ollie's shift tonight. I just wanted to come by and make sure it wouldn't be a problem."

I stare at her blankly for a moment. _'This is what she interrupted us for?'_ Even the thought sounds disbelieving. Finally, I blink and shake my head back and forth once. "Did he say why?" I try to sound concerned about the schedule change.

"Didn't have to. He's laid up in the infirmary for a day or two. He'll be making it up with my next regular shift. They expect him to be back on his feet again by the end of next week."

"Oh…" The news isn't anything what I was expecting. My face falls. "I'm sorry to hear." Dinah gives a weak smile and an appreciative nod of thanks. "Do you mind my asking what happened?"

Anger flashes across Dinah's face. She looks away as she leans onto the console to my left. "Idiot got careless. Let a bank robber get the better of him—a _bank robber_! I just don't understand it, the man takes everything Wildcat can dish out and then some, but lets himself get beaten up by a man in a mask aimlessly swinging a sack of quarters."

I can't help but laugh. The mental image is one thing, but I recognize something else in Dinah's demeanor, compassion. No matter what she is saying, she still cares deeply for Green Arrow. I've heard the rumors about the two of them dating, but I sort of feel as though I've been purposely kept out of the loop as to how they got together. This is the first I've ever heard about Green Arrow fighting Wildcat.

"What happened with Arrow and Wildcat?" I ask to sate my curiosity.

Dinah's eyes widen for an instant as she turns back to me. She schools her expression and stands straight, pushing herself from the consoles. "Don't worry about it. It's a long story, Wonder Woman. I'll have to tell you when we both have more time."

Before I can come up with a response, she turns to leave. I let her go, only turning to follow her with my eyes. _'There's definitely something she doesn't want me to know about Ollie.'_ I spend a few more minutes thinking about it after I turn back to the monitors. _'Or maybe it's Wildcat...or Dinah herself,'_ I suppose to myself.

I start to ask myself if I might have better luck asking Wildcat or the infirmed Ollie what it is Dinah doesn't want me to know when realization dawns on me. _'Bruce was going to talk to Zatanna! If I can't get anything out of him, I can always try getting some information from her.'_

The prospect forces me to maintain my focus on my monitor duties. Every time my thoughts wander, I simply remind myself that as tempting as it is to speculate what Zatanna and Bruce might have investigated or learned, I will never make it through the rest of my shift if I get too caught up in it. My patience finally runs thin—though at the perfect time—the moment the door slides open and Dinah arrives.

I turn to Black Canary as the door opens for her. She steps in without saying anything, wanting to hold off until she is closer. I rise from my seat, though I still have a few minutes left before midnight and the end of my shift.

"Wonder Woman?" Canary asks, a little surprised by my sudden rising.

"Relax, Dinah. There's nothing wrong. I just have something I need to do." I can't help myself and I pause. I turn back, sparing a few moments to look for any alerts on the monitors. Everything seems calm. I turn back to Dinah. "You'll excuse me for hurrying off."

Dinah only seems more surprised. After a few moments, she gives a half-nod of her head as she blinks at me. She steps out of my way. "Of course."

I begin walking from the consoles and the chair, heading directly for the hallway outside and eventually, some privacy in my room or wherever else I can find it. "Have a…good night, then," Dinah tells me as I pass, hesitating as if weighing what to say.

"Thanks." I leave it at that. After the worry an extra detail caused Kal, I've been better at giving shorter, simpler answers when they are all that is needed.

I get out into the hallway and turn left as the monitor womb door closes behind me. It's a short walk to the communications room, but my anxiousness about what Zatanna might tell me stretches the minutes into hours. _'What could be so bad that Bruce wouldn't tell me?'_

When the communication room's doors finally open for me, I steel my resolve and look up only to find a room full of Watchtower staff. I don't want anyone overhearing anything of this. I stop, pretend to have forgotten something, and then turn around and head for the elevators. "Alright, Plan B," I mutter as I leave the closing door behind.

In a way, I feel like Bruce as I briskly walk the halls, not talking to anyone, focused on what's ahead of me, both directly and my next step. A little surprised at myself, I begin to smile to those passing by. In a way, it makes me feel more myself, but it also calms me down a little bit, distracting myself with friendly greetings and letting myself respond.

I take the elevator down to Dormitory Deck A, sharing the elevator with three staffers on their way down for a maintenance check. I step out into the hall on my floor and go to the first door on the right. After a moments' hesitation, I knock. No one answers and I sigh with relief. The last thing I need right now is a misunderstanding from Kal overhearing my call to Zatanna and finding out something is wrong.

I move on to my door and use the voice system to gain quick access. Once I'm inside, I move to my bed and sit down on its edge, facing out towards the center of the room. I take another moment to decide my course of action and then lift my hand to my ear to activate my communicator.

"Wonder Woman to Zatanna." I close my eyes for a moment as the system processes the request.

"Zatanna here. What's going on, Wonder Woman?"

"I need to talk to you about…" I hesitate for a moment. I want to say Bruce, but for the most part, I know I should say Batman.

"About Bruce?" she finishes for me. "Don't worry, I know about Bruce."

That stops me. My first thought is that she means me and Bruce. By this point, who in the League hasn't heard or read about it? On the other hand, the second guessing begins immediately. I can't ask her, but I suspect she means Bruce and Batman. _'Is she one of the other women Bruce has been with?'_

I'd told him to warn me before I started meeting them, but Zatanna hadn't come up at all. No one had, in truth. When I brought it up for only the second time, I'd only managed to let Bruce off the hook for telling be about the countless women he'd brought to parties and flirted with "in the skin of the Playboy," as Alfred had once put it.

"Yes," I finally answer. "Can you meet me on the Watchtower about it?"

"Sure, I just finished my show an hour ago. I'll be up soon. Where do you want to talk?"

"I believe I'm the only one on the floor right now, so we can talk in my room."

She must sense my concern. "It's alright, Diana. It isn't anything too bad."

_'Not anything too bad? How could it not be bad?'_ It's almost too tempting to ask aloud, but I hold the words back, saving them for when we meet face-to-face. Instead, I reply with a simple "I'll be waiting."

For me, the wait is anything but simple. I spend the first few minutes sitting there on my bed, but most of the time I spend on my feet, pacing back and forth. Zatanna's attempt to ease my mind did the exact opposite. I _need_ to know what he called Zatanna in for, but more worrying is what—if not what he and Zatanna learned—is he avoiding telling me.

I can't help but fly to the door when the knocking fills the room. With a press of the button, the door slides open, revealing Zatanna in her full magician's attire, complete with top hat. "Hi," she greets with a little bit of nervousness.

The nervousness catches me off guard for a moment. "Please, come in." I step aside and gesture into the room. I let the door close automatically behind her and then direct her towards a pair of chairs below one of my windows, both windows currently facing Earth, the chairs facing the center of the window.

_'First thing's, first.'_ We both take a seat and Zatanna looks on in silence for a moment. "You said you know about Bruce…" I let the sentence hang in the air, giving her freedom to interpret as she wishes. I don't want to give Bruce's secret away if she doesn't already know.

Zatanna lifts her hands to her head, her index fingers extended towards the ceiling as she holds them up like the ears of Batman's cowl. "Yeah. My father was a world-famous escape artist. He came to us to learn everything my father had to teach. Would you believe he was calling himself John Smith when I first met him?"

She pauses to chuckle to herself. "That's what I thought his name was until I finally met up with him in Gotham. I was framed for a robbery and he helped me clear my name and solve the case. I'm just sorry my father didn't get to see what Bruce did with his skills while he could…"

I frown, not with disappointment, but with sympathy. She doesn't give me time to express my condolences. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you didn't ask to see me because of my father or anything like that."

"No, you're right." I nearly let myself stop there. "Since you mentioned it, though, I have to ask, did you and Bruce…" The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I'm not so sure I still want to know.

"No, no," Zatanna replies quickly. She gives me a second to calm and relax. "We've only ever been friends. There was a long time where I wished there was something, but no matter that I could have sworn up and down that John—Bruce, rather—liked me, he was too focused on learning my father's techniques."

She pauses, smiles and leans forward a little, lowering her voice a little to add, "You know, I always knew things would turn out like this, Diana." I tilt my head forward and a little to my right to prompt her for more. "You and Bruce. I helped him out with chasing down Circe for you. Had the chance to ask him. He wouldn't admit it flat out, but he did make it all seem like he missed an opportunity."

She straightens in her chair. "Incidentally, how'd you get him to change his mind?"

The prompt sends my mind back to the cave, to his intentionally hurtful words. _'I have, you haven't,'_ I remember him saying. I turn to the window. North America is visible through the window.

"I stopped trying. I convinced myself that I needed to stop and move on. I didn't realize how weak my resolve was until he showed up at my door to apologize and I accepted him."

I turn back to Zatanna. She wears her surprise clearly on her face. _'Perhaps it's the news of Bruce apologizing.' _"But again, that's not why I called for you to meet me here."

I give her a moment to nod in understanding. "I need you to tell me about what Bruce asked you to help him investigate."

"Oh. Well, I'm not so sure I should say if he hasn't said anything to you by now."

"Zatanna," I reply as authoritatively as I can, "Please." She spends almost a full minute in self-debate. Finally, she nods.

I immediately ask my first question to hold onto control of the conversation's flow and direction. "To start, how did he explain the situation when you met with him?"

"He…didn't really want to tell me anything. He told me he suspected magic had been cast on him, some lingering spell that might be affecting his mind without showing any external signs, or perhaps something that might be cast on him from time-to-time that only affects him while the spell is being cast."

She pauses, leaning back and relaxing a little, removing her top hat to rest on her lap. She plays her forefingers around its rim as she turns it slowly back and forth. "He was right, of course. I detected traces of magic. Strong stuff, too. It took some doing to dispel. I'm happy to say that it wasn't quite on Circe's level of sorcery, though. It was affecting his memory, blocking a few hours of a night from several weeks back."

My expression shifts to disappoint and confusion as I look off to my left and down. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah." Zatanna laughs. "That's what he said, too."

I look back to her. "You removed the spell, correct?" She nods. "Did he say what he remembered?"

"For the most part nothing. It was just a normal night of patrol. The only things of note he remembered happening were a robbery by the spellcaster and Alfred's concern that he was acting not quite himself when he returned home in the morning."

"What happened with the spell's caster?"

"He caught a man trying to break into a jewelry store. The man cast a spell on Bruce with a talisman or a charm of some sort. He must have expected it to knock Bruce out because he ran when Bruce managed to stay on his feet.

"I'm not sure what spell it was. Bruce wasn't convinced it was only a memory-blocking spell. From that expression, I'd say you aren't either."

She takes a deep breath, then leans a little closer in her chair. "Diana." I give a little start at the firmness of her tone. "There's something going on that neither one of you are telling me. Please, can't you tell me what it is? Or is that something _I'm_ not supposed to know?"

Her hidden meaning is clear. I suppose I owe her that much for coming to talk to me, for her honesty. "He's been having these…dreams…"

"Dreams? I can hardly believe that a dream is what's gotten under Bruce's skin."

"No. Well, I don't know what they are. Bruce didn't seem too sure what else to call them past dreams or nightmares, but he's _very_ adamant they aren't. All I know is that he seems to be witnessing some ongoing sequence of events across multiple nights and multiple dreams.

"The memory gap came in because it happened the night before the first dream. He was sure the two events were connected. I doubted it from the beginning. I'm guessing Bruce is starting to doubt it, too." Zatanna nods. "I think Bruce might have to accept that the memory gap and dreams happening on the same night is just a coincidence."

"I don't know if he'd ever do that." Zatanna laughs. She stands up. "Alright, well that's really all I know… Sorry I wasn't more helpful."

"No, I'm very grateful for what you've been able to say. Thank you again for coming."

Zatanna nods as she begins towards the door, me a step behind her. She pauses at the door. "Diana, if you don't mind my asking, would you let me know what you find out?"

"Of course," I reply.

"Thanks," she says while reaching for the button to the door.

She leaves me alone in my room with only my thoughts for company. I let Bruce linger in my thoughts for almost a half hour before I notice the time and see how late it is, nearly 1:00. _'I shouldn't stay up any longer.'_ I lift myself from the chair I had used while talking to Zatanna and head for the bathroom.

I take my time getting ready for bed before coming out, undressing, and climbing under my sheets. The sleep is a welcome change from the worry that's occupied my mind for so long. When I wake up, it comes back and I can't help but wonder how I made it through the night without any anxiety-fueled dreams.

After a shower and a leisurely pace putting my armor back on, I leave my room, heading for the commissary and breakfast. I keep my focus on my surroundings, greeting staff and League members alike as I pass them in the halls, in the commissary, and in the kitchen.

I manage to get a table to myself to eat, but when I finish my meal, I wonder if that had been for the best or not. I had spent most of the time thinking about Bruce, speculating about his dreams, about what they might be.

With the meal behind me, I head up to the transporter. I take my time getting there. I don't even bother using the founders' transporter interface as a shortcut to the Batcave. "Wayne Manor in Gotham," I instead tell the on-duty technician.

She nods. "Coming right up, Wonder Woman." Her hands fly across the screen for a few moments. "The parking loop in front alright?"

"Perfect," I reply before stepping past and onto the pad a moment after it finishes warming up.

Spots of light surround me long enough to disappear after blocking out all sight and sound of the Watchtower. Morning light in Gotham replaces the artificial ambiance. The grandeur of the ancestral Wayne home fills much of my vision.

My arrival this morning may be unannounced, but I doubt it will be a surprise to either of the manor's older residents. If Tim isn't off for school, I might catch him off guard, but that'd probably be it.

I hear a car engine behind me as I set my right foot on the bottom stair leading up to the main entrance. I stop and turn around to find Alfred driving up to the loop. He pulls up as close as he can, rolling the car to a gentle stop.

He is out of the car almost as soon as the engine is off. "Miss Diana," he begins before he closes the door and comes around the front end of the car, "Good morning. What brings you to the manor this morning, Your Highness?"

"Thank you, Alfred. Good morning to you as well." I pause before answering his question. "Is Bruce in?"

"Why, yes. I'm just returning from seeing Master Tim off to school and from my morning errands. I would be delighted to see you upstairs. He should be awake by now."

"Oh, he isn't awake yet? If he's not, I don't want to disturb his sleep. We both know how much trouble he's had of late."

"Nonsense, Miss Diana. Better for him to be awake. He'll need to go to the office eventually. We can't simply shoulder all of Wayne Enterprises on the good Mr. Fox just so Master Bruce can get a few more minutes of sleep."

Alfred's half-serious tone gets a good laugh from me in response and I'm once more indebted to the elder man for helping to lift my spirits. "Alright, you've convinced me."

He motions up towards the door and takes the first step. "If you will come with me, then."

I nod and follow, letting Alfred lead me up the steps. He pulls a key ring from a pocket and unlocks the front door, then swings it open before stepping aside and allowing me to precede him inside. I thank him on my way in and wait for him to follow me and close the door.

I let him lead me across the foyer to the steps to the second floor. We follow the hallway down to Bruce's room and Alfred knocks twice before opening the door and announcing himself. "Oh, very good, Master Bruce. I'm glad you're already awake," he says, but I can't see into the room and Alfred is still standing in the doorway.

"What is it, Alfred?"

"You have a visitor, Master Bruce. Miss Diana to bid you a good morning." He pauses and comments in a low voice, "_She_ used the front door."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce responds, with maybe a little sarcasm for Alfred's comment.

I step to my right, putting myself behind Alfred in the doorway. I smile at Bruce, but I'm not sure how well he can see my face. I have no trouble seeing over Alfred's shoulder. Bruce is wearing a pair of dark blue pajama slacks and a matching night shirt, sitting on the edge of his bed, turned towards the door.

He stands at the sight of me. Alfred correctly guesses why and steps inside and out of the way. I pass him after giving an appreciative smile. Bruce meets me in the middle of the room, drawing me into a warm embrace and giving me a kiss on each cheek, a little more 'good friend' than I'd like, but more than I'd have hoped for with an audience even as small as Alfred.

"Good morning, Diana."

"Good morning, Bruce."

"What brings you by so early this morning?"

"Well…" I pause. There is a lot that brought me here, but now that I'm here, I don't want to just tell him I went behind his back and talked to Zatanna. "I wanted to suggest we go on another date."

"Today? This morning?"

"Well, we don't have to go now. Alfred said you need to go into work."

"It's fine, Diana. Lucius will be alright without me around."

My expression grows more serious. _'This is exactly what Alfred said he wanted to avoid.'_ "Absolutely not. If you have time, I'd consider your lunch break, but we can wait until this evening.

"If that's what you want, Diana, I'd be happy to have lunch with you." For some reason, his response annoys me.

"Alright, well, how about what to eat? Or maybe there's some place in Gotham we could go to, make a date out of the visit instead of the meal."

"Whichever you'd prefer, Princess," he replies with a smile. He must be stealing it from me. I feel my face fall, my own smile reduced to a slight frown.

"Why don't you decide for us, Bruce?"

"Well, you were the one who suggested we have a date today…"

Finally, I realize that his tendency to accommodate my wishes of late is frustrating me. "Well, I'd rather hear your opinion. You're very opinionated. Why can't you just tell me what you want?"

"I want whatever you want, Diana." Something snaps in the back of my mind.

I push Bruce away. "I _want_ to know what you think. I _want_ to hear your opinion. I _want_ you to make decisions concerning our dates again!"

My arms drop to my sides for a moment. "What happened, Bruce?" Even to me, my voice sounds weak. I cross my forearms beneath my bust. "I always thought relationships were supposed to be equal parts give and take. I thought _we_ were coming into this as equals. I don't want to be the only one making the decisions.

"I really enjoyed you being nicer to me, but, Bruce, this is too much. What was so bad about the way things were before last week? Is it really so wrong for you to be a little more selfish?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thanks for reading.

Honestly, I don't know what to say for half of these Author's Notes. They're the last things I write, but sometimes when I write something for them, they bump me past whatever hundred the word count was nearest, so they're the first thing that gets trimmed.


	9. Branches

**Author's Note:** I think we all know what one word chapter/story titles mean by now. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

My eyes widen in shock as Diana pushes me away. I hear her words, her loaded questions. For almost a minute, I don't know how to answer. The first answer to mind is the first out of my mouth, though the words are barely considered beforehand. "Well, what would you rather I do?" Diana's expression doesn't change. _'Perhaps that wasn't the thing to say.'_ I need a change of tactics.

_'I can't let it end. No matter what I have to do, no matter what it costs me, I won't let everything I've gained fall apart!'_ I turn away, taking a quick glance at Alfred. I can't read him. It nearly stops me cold. I close my eyes. "Ok. Bad choice of words," I start off by admitting.

I lift my gaze back to Diana. "What's wrong with putting you ahead of me?"

Diana sighs. She turns, walks past me and over to the edge of my bed. She sits down, then pauses to look down at the sheets, rubbing her hands against the mattress and giving a little approving smile. She holds the smile on her lips as she turns back. "Because it isn't you, Bruce."

I open my mouth to object, the words forming automatically yet unbidden. Still, Diana beats me to speech. "Now, before you tell me off for _that_ comment, I already know you don't think anyone in the League could ever understand you. But would it really hurt for me to understand? Doesn't it encourage you even a little that for all I've figured out on my own and for everything else I can only guess, I've only come to love and respect you more? I've lost a lot of sleep over you, Bruce Wayne, even before you threw yourself back after me."

_'Wayne…She never met a real Wayne…'_ I stop myself to rein in the emotions before I can lose myself in thoughts of my parents. I turn my focus back to Diana's words. A small piece of me wishes that Diana _could_ understand what happened to me, but it doesn't matter. That pain belongs to me. It's not something I want to share, even if I could.

Regardless, Diana losing sleep thinking about me is unexpected news. _'It's like she…obsessed…over me. I never thought anyone would do that who wasn't trying to kill me.'_ I chuckle before I can think not to. Diana casts me a questioning glance. "It usually doesn't work out well when someone obsesses over me. Only, it isn't Bruce Wayne they focus on."

"You know, I had to tell Kal to trust me, to trust me to know what I'm doing with my heart." She pauses, looking away for a minute. "Bruce, if there's anything I can ask of you, it's don't make me tell you the same and don't make me tell Kal I should have listened to him."

_'Don't doubt you and don't hurt you,'_ I paraphrase to myself. I shake my head. "I won't, Diana. No matter what happens, I won't let that come to pass."

"It's fine, Bruce. You don't need to be so serious." She pauses. "It's just… Bruce, I want to be your _equal_ in this relationship. So, why were you acting like that to begin with? Did you just wake up one day and decide you cared more about what I _might_ want than anything else? Did you decide that your wants didn't matter anymore or that I wouldn't care what you might need out of _us_?

"Is it the dreams, Bruce? Were you trying to avoid telling me about them?" She pauses again. "Did you learn something? Figure something out? It didn't seem like Zatanna was able to help much."

Diana stops, turning from me with a look of guilt. _'She spoke to Zatanna. I should have expected that.'_ "What did she tell you?" I ask, looking past her for a moment to see if Alfred knew as well. He looks surprised.

Diana hesitates before answering. "She told me that you got your memory back. She said she didn't think it helped you."

She pauses for long enough to turn back to me. "Bruce, I've doubted myself, too."

"What?"

"I once asked myself if it was worth it to keep fighting. I doubted that we could do any good, that our efforts amounted to anything."

Diana has always been steadfast in her beliefs, her commitments to justice. What could shake her resolve? "When did you ever believe that?"

"Gorilla City. When I was trapped under that missile."

I remember. I shouldn't have been, but I was scared. Scared for Diana. I had been in denial about what appeared to happen. Shayera and J'onn watched me dig until J'onn finally stepped up to stop me. I had closed myself off, kept my reactions from the surface when she pushed the missile aside and stood on her own. Inwardly, I had been full of relief.

"I thought about leaving. I couldn't go home to Themyscira, but I thought about quitting the Justice League and just...wandering."

I ask the unavoidable. "What made you change your mind?"

Diana looks back to me. She smiles and lifts her hands to my cheeks. She leans closer, presses her lips to mine. My hands move of their own volition, my right hand to Diana's back, my left across her lap to her right thigh.

She pulls her lips away. "You," she answers. Before I can think of a response, she kisses me again.

_'Me? How me?'_ I have to wait to ask. I don't push Diana back for a turn to speak, but as I try to comprehend the idea, I'm too busy to kiss back. She soon gives me some space and the words fall from my mouth.

"Because you don't give up. Because you fight on. I thought about when we all met, when J'onn helped hide you and the rest of us all thought you were dead. I heard you call for me, I heard you digging while I was unconscious. That was what brought me back to the waking world."

A smile makes its way to my lips before I know it. I had always thought my efforts that day were ineffectual. I'd cursed my own powerlessness, hated myself in that moment like I'd done only on a rare few occasions. To now know that my efforts had meant something, that I had succeeded where I thought I had failed… "Thank you."

"For what, Bruce? I should really be the one to thank you."

I take my turn, kissing Diana, silencing her for a moment. I don't want to think of an explanation, I don't care. I only want her to know I'm glad to know I helped. I pull Diana closer, against my side while continuing to kiss her for a moment, then pull back and tell her, "Just thank you."

"Well, I suppose I should say 'you're welcome' while you're still so happy," Diana says, moving her hands from my cheeks to my sides just above my waist.

"Why?"

"Because now that I have you, I'm not letting you go until you tell Alfred and I about your dreams." I lift my left eyebrow, the centerpiece of my questioning stare. Diana only smiles. "An advantage of being an Amazon." The words sound almost too happy.

I turn from Diana's joyous, almost triumphant visage to Alfred, looking for assistance. He certainly isn't making any moves to intervene. If anything, his expression is telling me that I deserve this and that it should have happened long ago.

_'I'd rather not,'_ I say to myself, even as the reality of the situation begins to set in.

I can't help myself, I twist a little, testing Diana's grip. It doesn't take much to realize I would probably have to break my back, or at least a few ribs, before I would be able to squirm out from between Diana's hands. I could always just suffer an injury and then try to make my escape, but where would I go? I certainly can't escape to the Watchtower in my pajamas and I'd never have enough time to put my Batsuit on before Diana would catch up.

Another idea comes to mind, a reversal of tactics. I could try kissing her, surprise her just enough that her grip loosens and I can twist free. I shoot that idea down just as quickly. There's always the chance that Diana would simply wrap her arms around me rather than relax her hands. More importantly, I follow the idea back to its source, Selina and Talia. Both turned my heart against me for their own ends. How could I ever allow myself to do the same to Diana?

I look up from Diana's arms to her face again. I feel my expression mellow as I watch her. _'No... I could never use her heart against her...'_ I revisit my first idea, discounting it after a quick moment. It would be much the same for me to hurt myself using Diana. She would blame herself for my injuries.

I don't really have a choice. I'm about to resign myself and start explaining when Diana breaks our silence. "Alright, Bruce, how about if I tell you a little more about what happened to me in Gorilla City?"

"What?"

"I'll tell you more about when I was under that missile and you tell us about your dreams." She turns away, looking to Alfred. "Do you have any stories you'd like to add to this exchange?"

"None of my own, Miss Diana, but perhaps you would be interested in the tale of the young Master Bruce and the disappearing oranges."

My jaw falls slack and, for a moment, my eyes widen. "You wouldn't dare!" The expression on Alfred's face tells me that not only would he dare, he wouldn't hesitate.

"I've never heard anything about this." Diana is too excited for comfort. "Could I convince you to tell me regardless, Alfred?"

"Alright!" I nearly shout. Diana and Alfred turn back, their exchange successfully derailed, even if only for the moment. "Diana, what were you going to say about Gorilla City? I'll tell you about my dreams after."

"Deal." Though she gives her agreement, her grip remains tight around my waist.

She seems to take a few moments to prepare herself, turned away and her expression shifts subtly before she gives a nod and turns back to me. "The missile rendered me unconscious. While I was out, Apollo granted me…a series of visions."

_'Apollo, Greek god. Son of Zeus and Leto; brother of Artemis. If Diana's mention of visions is anything to go by, it's his role as god of prophecy that is important.'_ I nod my head in understanding.

"The first thing I saw was the missile laying on top of me, then you, Shayera, and J'onn rushing towards it. I saw Flash with Solovar, Grodd with the doctor helping him. I didn't see a vision of John, but I did see that Kal was, at least in that moment, stopping a bank robbery.

"Things became… I don't know, more disjointed after that. There was a series of scenes, everything from the everyday to the bloodiest violence. I saw people crossing at a busy intersection. I saw a police shootout. I saw a man smash a folding chair through a store window. I saw a mall lobby. I saw a man abducted and thrown in the back seat of a dark sedan."

Diana stops for a few seconds. "I saw Themyscira, Mother and my sisters frozen in stone. That infuriating smirk on Faust's lips, knowing I would have to do his dirty work, knowing that restoring them was more important to me than beating the tar out of him for daring violate Themysciran law."

If I didn't care about Diana's feelings, I'd almost be willing to remind her that she brought us to Themyscira. Fortunately, she continues before the words betray me. "I saw memories of Atlantis, when Aquaman's brother tried to have Kal, the two Johns, and I drowned.

"For each, I was always an observer. It was unsettling, seeing _myself_ like that. Aside from the longer visions in which I played a role, I saw something of a series of vignettes. There were so many...crimes...atrocities; I was a powerless witness to them all."

She pauses, struggling with the words. I bring a hand to her shoulder, the other to her left cheek. "Bruce, in the face of it, I gave up. I questioned if we were really doing any good for the Earth and her people. I convinced myself that we weren't preventing any crimes from being committed."

She seems to shrink, then lifts her gaze to my face. Her grip loosens, though her hands remain still. "After spending so much time amongst humanity, after _finally_ getting through to you, I'm not so happy thinking it anymore, but I realized most of the criminals I saw were men. I thought it was normal. I figured that Mother was right about men and Man's World. I thought the only thing I accomplished by leaving Themyscira was getting myself exiled."

"Diana..." She looks deep into my eyes, apologetic. I smile reassuringly. "You know that's not true. You've helped us through disasters the world over. You've saved my life on many occasions."

Alfred sees fit to chime in. "Take heart, Miss Diana. That might be the last you'll hear of a 'thank you' from Master Bruce for quite some time. Don't doubt yourself or that Master Bruce's words come straight from the heart."

Diana turns to Alfred. "I know. Thank you." She turns back to me and I get a better view of her radiant smile. "Thank you both."

The smile fades a little as she continues. "I had decided that there wasn't a reason for me to continue, but I realized I had nowhere to go. Then I was returned to the invasion, to when we met the Imperium. I saw you climbing up to that crystal.

"I saw my relief...my joy when J'onn gave you the signal and you made your appearance. I never heard any words, any sounds in any of the visions, but my mind filled in what I said when you landed beside me and started cutting my hands free.

"I saw scenes of crimes in progress all over the world. I have no idea how much of it might have been happening while I was beneath that missile, how much was a vision of the past. All I knew was that it was consuming me. I was losing myself to confusion, overwhelmed by everything all at once.

To my surprise, Diana's hands leave me. She brings her hands close to her body, her gaze following them to her lap before she wraps them around, hugging herself. "I kept myself together by clinging to whatever single vision that I could. I found a family, a little boy and his parents. I'll never forget them. I found peace with them, pushing the other visions away."

The faint smile disappears from Diana's lips. Her arms slacken, falling loose until her hands are resting on the outside of her hips. Her voice seems to become empty, pained until there is nothing left but words.

"They were in an alley. The boy was excited. He had a sense of relief on his expression. Partway into the alley, a man in a long coat appeared before them, as though born from the shadows of the alley."

My eyes widen involuntarily and a sinking, sickening feeling drags my heart to my feet. _'What? No...'_

"He spoke, but I couldn't hear what he said. He raised a gun, held it aimed at the boy's parents."

_'No, it can't be...'_

"I tried to put myself between them, but I had no bracelets to fight with, no arms or legs, not even a body to block him with. He made a move for the pearl necklace the boy's mother was wearing. The boy's father tried to stop him, but the man shot both of the boy's parents and then fled."

_'I…I don't… How?'_

"My _goodness_…" Alfred mutters. I share his shock.

Diana either misses it or ignores Alfred's response. "I couldn't do anything but watch the boy as he sank to his knees. I could see the pain and emptiness consuming him, yet there was nothing I could do.

"A moment later, I heard you calling my name and the vision faded away just before I heard you start digging. All I wanted was to comfort that boy, but I didn't know how. When the vision was gone, I knew the chance was lost."

I shake my head, thought almost absent from my mind. "You have, Diana. You are."

"What?" Diana asks as I stand. I reach down, crossing my arms and taking her hands, pulling them straight as I lift her from the bed.

"Come with me." I release Diana's right hand from my left and turn to my bedroom door. Alfred is a few steps ahead of me as I drag her towards the door. I'm not surprised at all that he knows what I intend.

He leads us down the hall, back to the foyer. Diana asks questions as we all walk, but neither Alfred nor I take the time to answer her aloud. She'll understand soon enough.

At the foyer, Alfred leads us downstairs, then down another hallway towards the sitting room. He stops at the door, opens it into the room and then lets us pass by before quickly following us inside. I take Diana over to an ornate, marble fireplace. Finally, I stop walking and turn to her.

"You still have a vivid memory of that vision?" Diana nods. I turn away and lift my chin meaningfully, looking above the fireplace at the large portrait hanging in the open space past the mantle. Now, I only need to stand still and wait. I don't know if I want to be proven right or wrong.

Diana doesn't make me wait long. She steps past me on my left, her mouth hanging open and her focus solely on the image of my parents. "Great Hera…" she nearly whispers. That's all the response I need. It takes all the willpower I have to keep my feet still.

Diana turns to me. I lower my chin, turn my head slowly to meet her stare. "That little boy…" Her words are light, delicate, like the tread of feet across a sheet of glass. "It was you…" My resolve falters.

_'I can't do this.'_ I close my eyes for a few moments, long enough to block the sight of the empathy, the concern, and the pity painted all across Diana's expression. I turn away and walk briskly out of the room, leaving Alfred and a still-shocked Diana behind. I don't have to worry about Alfred following me this time. He knows Diana needs him more than I do.

I follow the hallway back to the foyer, and then a second to the study. Before long, I'm at the bottom of the stairs in the Batcave, on my way to the underground gym and the punching bag Alfred kept me from at the dawn of my relationship with Diana.

"Diana," I mutter under my breath as I enter the gym, barely cognizant of the clap of my slippers against the floor or the pajamas I'm still dressed in. _'Her gods showed her my parents' murder! And for what?'_

I wonder for a moment if they showed her a vision or if they brought her consciousness back to that moment. My body begins an automatic assault on the punching bag while my thoughts wander. If a mere human can invent a time machine in a few decades, what would stop gods?

_'How cruel can they be?'_ My eyes focus for a moment as my punches slow. _'How could they force Diana to watch? How could they bring her back and do nothing to stop my parents from dying?'_

I stop. _'That's the problem…'_ I'm not angry with Diana. I don't even feel the familiar need for strength, power, the wish that I had been able to act that night. The mere _possibility_ that Diana's gods had brought her back to the alley in Park Row had blinded me to information Diana herself had provided: it was Apollo, god of prophecy _and truth_.

"It was just a vision…" I try to tell myself. It works, for the most part, but largely because I focus on a new problem. _'Why?'_

To busy my body, I begin punching the bag in front of me once more, though more relaxedly than before. _'This is all too specific. There was nothing trivial about selecting my parents' murder to show Diana. Why my past? Why not the end of Krypton? The fall of Martian civilization? Even the Graysons' murder?'_

The first thing to come to mind is also the most worrying. _'They directed her to me, but why? Because we might one day fall in love? Because we're supposed to fall in love? Was it even our choice to make?'_

"Bruce!" Diana, shouting from somewhere behind me, probably from the bottom of the steps down from the study. I give myself a moment to punch the bag once more with each fist, then stop and stand straight. A small piece of my mind had been curious about how long Alfred would be able to keep her from coming after me.

"Bruce!" She must have crossed the Batcave in the air. I didn't hear her getting closer. She is at the entrance to the gym.

A few moments later, she speaks again. "Bruce."

"I never meant to share my pain with anyone, Diana." Even to me, my voice sounds almost despondent.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I didn't realize I was dredging up your past."

I turn around slowly. The only thing I hope is that I won't see the pity I saw before. Fortunately, she only looks deeply apologetic. That will be far easier to deal with.

"I'm not angry with you, Diana." My voice is soft, my words sincere. "But I need to know why. Why did your gods show you _my_ past? Did they _know_ we would end up together or _need_ us to be together?"

"Bruce, don't talk like that." She sounds…worried. "Shayera told me what John said to her. I never thought you'd have to tell me you won't be a puppet of fate."

_'A puppet of fate? No.'_ I shake my head. "No, even if visions of me kept you with the League, choosing to let you in was _my_ decision. Pursuing me was _yours_." Though I might be a little more skeptical if the first dream had happened before I went after Diana.

She relaxes, sighing with relief. For some reason, I feel the need to explain further. "At first, I wasn't thinking of Apollo as the god of truth. I thought that you might have been taken back to that moment and forced to watch, rather than seeing an image of that night.

"I became Batman because, on that night, I was as powerless as you saw. I dedicated myself to turning fear on the cowards, crooks, and madmen preying on Gotham's innocent. It didn't take much time or even a Justice League before my mission expanded into much more."

Diana only nods. I'm not sure that I would know what to say either. I've given her a lot to think about. I've said more than I probably ever would have if she hadn't seen how my parents died.

"Diana." She looks up to me and I approach, prepared for an entirely new discussion. "You wanted to go out on a date today." After a few moments of silence, she nods. "How about dinner? And how about we eat here at the manor instead of going out?" I place my hands on her upper arms.

"Yeah. That sounds good." Her hands make their way to my chest. They slide slowly up to my shoulders and she pulls me closer. She lifts her chin and I answer with a kiss. She surprises me with passion. I return it as best I can.

What I had intended to be only a brief kiss, she extends over a minute. Our lips brush repeatedly across each other as we wordlessly, almost urgently reaffirm everything between us. We keep our hands mostly still and our tongues to ourselves, reserving them for moments of security, for when we want to arouse one another's passion, for times of intimacy.

Finally, Diana pulls back. She looks into my eyes with a mixture of appreciation and relief. After a moment, she smiles, lifting her right hand from my shoulder. I feel her fingertips on my left cheek, rising until they begin playing into my hair. "You should get ready for work," she tells me while her fingers straighten the hair along the center and left side of my hairline.

I nod. _'She's going to let me off about my dreams again?' _I'd thank her if I wasn't sure she just isn't thinking of them at the moment. "Right. We'll talk this evening."

She nods in response. "Would you mind me waiting here? I don't feel like going back to the Watchtower right now."

"Of course."

I take Diana's left hand in my right. She squeezes my hand and turns, starting us back into Wayne Manor proper. Alfred meets us in the study and I fill him in on our plans for the rest of the day. Before I excuse myself to change, he offers Diana lunch and teases her with promises of confectionary treats in the afternoon.

I can't keep myself from pausing for a few moments when I close the door to my bedroom. I want to be angry with Apollo, with the whole Greek Pantheon for using my _personal_ tragedy for their own ends, but there are things more important. Thinking positively and oddly enough, I owe everything I've gained with Diana to myself, to my parents, and to Apollo if not the other gods as well. The nagging issue is why.

I enter the bathroom in the corner of my room and begin stripping to take a shower. _'At least some of the gods have a vested interest in Themyscira, if for no other reason than as a gate to Tartarus. Was it simply that they wanted to preserve the connection between Themyscira and the rest of humanity after Diana forced it upon them?'_

I consider briefly that they might be thinking of Diana's happiness. The idea is too far-fetched to give any weight. If entering into a relationship with me has brought Diana half as much happiness as I've seen, why wait _years_ for us to start on our own? If Gorilla City was good enough for a touchpoint, why not affect us both? Simply go the full distance and make it the catalyst for our relationship.

I lift my hands to my head, a small glob of shampoo on my left palm. _'An issue of timing? Something our relationship itself is a catalyst of? Maybe something else needed to happen first.'_ Maybe the expansion of the League. Maybe Darkseid's second invasion—his third if counting when Superman was his willing pawn.

I let the possible prerequisites spin in my mind as I finish my shower and then step back out onto the tile. After a round of dental hygiene and the rest of my morning bathroom routine, I exit out into my bedroom. I follow the route from bureau to closet, fetching my clothing for the day, dressing myself as usual in my tan suit.

I exit back out into the hallway with my tie in hand and head off for the foyer. Once I arrive, I head back downstairs and then towards the library, where Alfred said he would bring Diana. He had suggested it as a good place to pass the time. I'm sure Tim would have suggested the entertainment room for its personal theater, but I expect Alfred's suggestion will be little more fitting.

I find Alfred just inside the library door, waiting a respectful distance away, but more than close enough to assist however he might be needed should Diana have any questions or a request for a specific book or topic. "Ahh, Master Bruce." He sees the tie. "The usual, sir?"

"Thank you, Alfred," I reply while handing it to him.

He wraps the tie behind my neck. "Honestly, Master Bruce, one would think you'd have learned to tie one of these on your own by now." He leans a little closer and says much more quietly, "This is one duty I hope to never have to pass on to anyone else."

I give a small groan and look past him to Diana. She's looking on from afar, sitting in a cushy seat with an open book in her lap. I'm happy she's found something to occupy herself with already. _'Good. Doesn't seem like she heard Alfred.'_

Alfred soon finishes and I thank him again before heading for where Diana is sitting. She begins to stand, but I stop her with a gesture. She pauses as I come to a stop in front of the chair. I lean over and rest my hands on the arms of the chair.

"You'll be alright here until I get back?"

"I should hope so, Bruce. You have a big enough house. I didn't get through too much in the library while J'onn and I were staying here after you used the Watchtower in lieu of a batarang."

I smile, despite the verbal barb. Diana had always been the most outspoken about that decision. I've known for years that it was because she cared, but I can't fool myself into thinking I'd have ever done things differently. She, John, and Superman were needed at the force field generator. Flash, J'onn, and I were more than enough to retake the Watchtower. I could never have asked either of them to guide the Watchtower in my place.

"I thought so," I reply, leaning forward.

I stop with my face a scant few inches from Diana's. She leans forward and takes my lips with hers, at the same time lifting her hands to mine on the chair's arms. We stop after a few moments, pulling apart and opening our eyes to look at one another. It doesn't last long. We come back together for a second, then a third kiss.

"I'll see you this evening."

Diana leans forward, gives me another quick kiss. "Yeah." She closes the gap one more time. Her hands leave mine, finding me again on my cheeks just as her lips press gently to mine. Our lips brush lightly for almost a breath before she presses more tightly, pulling my head more firmly forward, a long goodbye kiss to hold us both over until the end of the afternoon.

"I love you, Bruce." Her hands fall away from my face. "Don't let anything ever come before that." A quiet voice, her words as much an order as they are a plea.

"I know." I lean back, but keep my hands on the chair for a few moments longer. "I love you, too, Diana." The words bring me a sense of joy as they pass unforced across my lips. The declaration does the same to Diana. She gifts me with a brilliant smile, the first I've seen since she learned that she watched my parents die.

"Feel free to ask Alfred if there's anything you need," I tell her as I pull my hands from the chair and stand. She nods to me, then turns to Alfred and gives him a smile.

"Thanks," she replies. "I'll see you soon."

I nod, taking her words as a dismissal. I turn to Alfred and the door and cross the room. Alfred follows me into the hallway. He breaks his silence only once before we leave the grounds. "If you'll wait in the foyer while I bring the car around."

After I answer, he turns and heads for the garage. I, meanwhile, return to the study, retrieving my things to spend what's left of the day at the office. With my briefcase filled, I return to the foyer and wait barely more than a minute for Alfred to pull the car to a stop in the parking loop.

I head outside and quickly descend the steps, climbing into the open back seat. I thank Alfred as I pass him and then set my briefcase on the driver's side of the seat and wait. Before long, Alfred has closed my door and is back in the driver's seat, taking the car out of Park and easing us down to the gate at the edge of 1007 Mountain Drive.

"I just don't understand it, sir," Alfred finally comments a quarter mile after the gate has closed behind us.

I don't _need_ to ask, but I do regardless. "What, Alfred?"

"How Miss Diana could have witnessed your parents' murder."

"It was Apollo, Alfred. Among other things, he is the Greek god of prophecy and truth. He merely needed to show her a vision." I wait a moment to see if Alfred will say anymore on his own. "The question is why."

"I assume you've considered the possibilities, sir."

"Not all of them, Alfred. I feel like I'm still missing a piece of the puzzle. None of my scenarios seem to explain everything we know."

"May I also assume that you mean everything _you_ know, sir? I expect you have an advantage over the rest of us with your dreams."

I pause a moment. It's been a while since Alfred tried to get information from me. "No, Alfred. I don't believe they provide any clues to Diana's visions or her gods' actions."

"Very well, Master Bruce. I trust you will keep us abreast of any developments on the topic of Miss Diana's visions?"

I'm growing weary of the verbal jabs. "Yes, and I'll even explain my dreams once we've finished eating dinner." I hope that will placate Alfred for the time being.

Luckily, it does. He leaves me to my thoughts until we are in the shadow of Wayne Enterprises. He wishes me a good day and I thank him in reply before asking him again to assist Diana however he can. He agrees, telling me he will make sure Diana feels most welcome, and then offering to save a few portions of whatever treats he makes for our dessert in the evening.

I thank him one last time before seeing him off and finally entering the building. I hand out greetings freely, responding in as friendly a manner as I can when people bid me a good morning. Many of the female employees seem more relaxed around me, appreciative of my lack of flirtatiousness now that it's a well-known fact that I'm dating Wonder Woman.

The change in my public behavior towards women is the first of many planned changes in my overall public persona. My end goal is to shed the skin of the playboy entirely, to be merely the 'Bruce' that Diana has chosen to date, regardless if I am in public or private, regardless if I am out together with her or on my own.

After only the hour before lunch and by the end of the afternoon, I have made positive strides towards appearing more attentive and involved, been friendly instead of flirtatious, and allowed small, business-related bits of my intelligence shine through. To cap it all off, I spend more time than I normally would with Lucius going over the available files on an aerospace research lab at LexCorp, placed on the market by the surprisingly cutthroat businesswoman, Mercy Graves.

Mercy had placed the lab up for bids as it was underperforming from the perspective of profit margins. With her return to power after the apparently permanent disappearance of Lex Luthor, she had turned the company around, aiming for higher and higher profit margins. Cuts and sell-offs had enabled much of LexCorp's new quarterly profits, but it had taken consistently rising stock dividends to keep investors happy.

The first round of cuts were the entirely unprofitable, research teams and even a whole division dedicated to technological developments Luthor had employed for his illicit gains and in efforts to destroy the Justice League, both directly and in the long-past times of CADMUS. This aerospace lab is one of the last to go. Among other things, this lab's scientists had developed the delivery missiles CADMUS utilized to flood the Watchtower with copies of the Ultimen.

In the end, Lucius and I determine that the lab would be worth the investment, as their operations had merely been mismanaged. With a little restructuring, they might prove very profitable. If nothing else, they are fresh minds. Their work would certainly benefit the well-established Wayne Aerospace. Indirectly, they could also provide valuable insights for the next generation of Javelins.

As the workday draws to a close, I make my way back down to the ground floor lobby. I step out onto the sidewalk pavement and am greeted with the sight of Alfred and his preferred car. On a second look, I spot a passenger in the rear passenger seat. It's Diana, I realize a moment before the car rolls to a stop in front of the building.

I step up as Alfred and Diana exit the car. Diana doesn't bother to wait for Alfred to come around to open her door—something I'm sure he would give a quick lecture about if we were not in so public a place. I greet Diana and then Alfred and together, she and I climb into the car and wait for Alfred to come back around.

"Decided to hitch a ride, I see."

"I prefer to think that I grew tired of waiting for you to come back on your own." She leans toward me, placing her left hand on my chest and bringing her lips tantalizingly close to mine, but pausing to await my response. I don't make her wait, closing the gap and kissing her while my hands find her left side and the bare skin of her shoulder. I try to ignore thoughts of others' reactions to seeing me getting into a car to share the back seat with Wonder Woman, clad in her signature armor.

I spend the car ride home in silence, relaxed and at peace. Diana shares her hand with me for the drive. I feel a sense of loss when we must let each other's hand go to climb out of the car once we arrive at the manor.

Dinner is similarly at ease. The privacy and atmosphere do all of us good. Alfred's meal certainly helps. He credits Diana with her choice of steak for dinner as he serves us our filet mignon with béarnaise sauce, stuffed baked potatoes, and a small glass dish of mixed vegetables. Our desert is a slice each of caramel apple cheesecake. Everything, from start to finish, is cooked and prepared with Alfred's impeccable care and precision.

"Thank you, Alfred," I say after we finish our meal. "Everything was absolutely scrumptious."

"I was happy to cook, Master Bruce. It's a rare occasion indeed when I get to present a full, warm meal to anyone but Master Timothy or, looking back a few years further, Master Dick. I would certainly welcome the opportunity more often. Perhaps, Miss Diana, if you would be willing to spend more time at the manor.

"I would be pleased and honored, Alfred," Diana replies. "You spoiled us when J'onn and I were staying here. I have to say I had a little difficulty adjusting to commissary food after the second Watchtower was completed."

"Alfred."

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Leave the dishes in water for now. Come back as soon as you can from dropping the dishes off."

"Might I be so bold as to ask why, Master Bruce?"

I turn from Alfred, looking across the table towards Diana. I clasp my hands and rest my forearms over the edge of the table. "It's time. I have a lot to explain."

"Of course, sir!" Alfred exclaims while redoubling his efforts to clear the table.

Before long, the table is empty and he is back. He takes my usual seat at the head of the table, with Diana in the first seat on his right, me in the first seat on his left. I look to both of them in turn, they're both the epitome of attentiveness.

"You both know that I drove you away, Diana, but I was not prepared for you to walk away for a final time. Well, it didn't fill me with any sort of relief or satisfaction. I went to the gym, tried to relieve the stress. Alfred followed me. I was fortunate, considering I wouldn't have been able to act if not for him." I turn to my old friend and ally as I finish. He replies with a nod, appreciative of the credit given, but stays silent so as not to interrupt.

"I went to the Watchtower with purpose, a goal—hope for a chance to speak to Diana. When the elevator door opened on Dormitory Deck A, I found myself face-to-face with Superman."

Diana's expression shifts, almost a wince, when she hears me mention Superman. I pause, give her a chance to speak. "He met me when I was getting on the elevator to go down from the transporter deck. He could tell that something was wrong from the moment he saw me.

"I told him I wanted to be alone, but he ignored it, taking the elevator back down with me and following me to my room. He said he couldn't just leave a friend as distraught I was alone.

"He tried to console me, convinced me to tell him what happened—after all, he guessed it was something to do with you before I said anything." She pauses to smile and chuckle. "He got angry, but he didn't do much to show it. I didn't give him much of a chance. I was too busy being depressed and then angry."

I give a wry laugh. "Well, he certainly saw fit to show _me_ his anger." I see I have my audience's full attention again. "Before I even made it out of the elevator, he grabbed me and slammed me against its back wall. He demanded to know what I was doing and threatened me, told me that the Justice Lords would start with my death instead of Flash's if I ever hurt you again."

"_What_?" I'm not at all surprised by Diana's disbelief. Another question comes to her mind. "Is _that_ why you decided to put me ahead of yourself?"

"No. And _don't_ tell him I told you about this." Diana nods after a few short seconds. I turn to Alfred and he agrees as well.

"The first…dream, for lack of a better word, was a few days later and was much the same up until that point. I remembered the original events nearly from when the dream started. My thoughts were different, but all the words and actions were the same, right up until I bypassed security on your door and looked into your room.

"When you threw your dress at me, I caught it. When I lowered it from my face, you were nearly on top of me, then shoved me back into the hallway as you left your room and headed for the elevators. You never said a word and didn't look at me for any longer than while I was in your way. Even so, your anger, your fury was clear."

I take a deep breath, look back and forth between Diana and Alfred. Neither could be any more interested than they already are. "I lifted myself to my feet and let myself think that the dream was real. It seemed more likely that you would walk away, Diana, rather than forgive me with an apology, an explanation, and a simple declaration of love."

"Well," Diana interrupts, "it was funny seeing you get hit in the face with a dress. Did you ever try to imagine what that looked like? If you denied me that bit of amusement, I can't say what I would have done."

"In any case, I went to the elevator after a few moments and prepared myself to return home and to disappoint Alfred."

"I must say you would have disappointed me! I held onto every hope that you would come around to each other. I was absolutely overjoyed when you told me the news."

I look to Alfred, let a second or two pass before speaking again. "I never got the chance." I look back towards Diana. "Superman took the elevator back down, met me at the end of the deck. He grabbed me by the throat, choked me the moment the doors were open."

I let the weight of my words begin to sink in. "He threw me down the hall. I slammed into the far wall and slid down it, disoriented. I tried going for the kryptonite shard in my utility belt, but he melted its lead compartment shut before my hand ever reached it.

"He spent a few moments telling me what I had done to you, how I'd hurt you. He told me how difficult it was for him to stand by and watch. He lifted me from the floor, ripped off my cowl, and reminded me of what he vowed to do. Then he punched me, drove his fist through my chest and crushed my heart.

"He told me 'now you know how Diana feels' just before I lost consciousness. I eventually woke up in my bed here. I immediately rushed down to the Batcave to make that panicked call to you, Diana."

I don't give them time to say anything yet. I want them to hear everything before they respond beyond a quick interruption. "The second dream was a few nights later. It was like a continuation of the first. I was still dead. You were staying in my bedroom." I motion to Diana so there will be no question. I omit the fact that she slept naked in my bed.

"Alfred, you came to the door to tell Diana that my body had been delivered by Superman. You told her I was in the Batcave and left to wait below the stairs." I turn from Alfred.

"Diana, you got up and dressed yourself in ceremonial garb. The same outfit you wore to Superman's supposed funeral back before the expansion, complete with your golden winged circlet, your sword, and your shield."

I hesitate a few breaths before continuing. "Alfred guided you to my body, laying in nearly full dress, only my cowl missing, as it was at the end of the first dream. He turned on the lights and you took one step before floating to my side and dropping your sword and shield.

"You asked Alfred if Superman said how I died. He answered that it been accidental, that I had been impaled by a pipe in an explosion." There's still anger over that scene, though I know the Clark Kent I've known for longer than there's been a Justice League isn't responsible.

"You both stood over me for a short while before Alfred noticed that my condition seemed wrong. He scanned for traces of metal, then scanned the shape of the...cavity in my chest. He determined that I was killed with a fist. You both came to the same conclusion as to how."

I hesitate again, but for longer this time. _'Should I mention the hidden kryptonite? Is it worth compromising in reality?'_ I close my eyes for a deep breath as I weigh the options.

"Diana opened a hidden vault in the Batcave. It's where I store kryptonite. Before now, I've never told anyone, not even Alfred that it exists, let alone how to access it. Alfred clearly had no knowledge of what Diana was doing." My words strike me as a little odd. I'm describing the actions of the people listening to me, but as though I'm talking about someone else. In a way, I am.

"Diana punched her way into the vault, retrieving the small lead case and the shard of kryptonite within it." I watch Diana, study her expression. Her clear and unmasked worry tells me that she already knows, but I need to finish my story.

"Diana, you went back to my body and removed my cape, wrapping it around yourself and leaving your circlet behind in my hands. You saw the half-melted compartment on my belt and tore it open to reveal the shard on me when I died.

"You took the other shard's lead case apart, used the top cover to fashion a makeshift compartment on the inside of your left bracelet. You hid one shard inside, held the other in your bare right hand. You then made your way to the transporter in the back of the Batcave and asked if you could stay in the manor if you survived. Alfred said yes."

I look to Alfred. "I would have done the same." I return my attention to my story. "The second dream ended shortly after, when you went back to the Watchtower. I woke up when my perspective hit the Watchtower's hull, after my consciousness was stretched all the way from the cave to space."

Again, I start right into the next dream before either listener can mistake me for finished. "The last dream was a little over a week ago. I didn't see the beginning of the battle, but you were fighting Superman and may have been for some time. One of the first things you must have done was to destroy the transporters. They were gone, their wreckage covered in fire suppression foam.

"The first thing I saw when it started was you flying across the open air in the main transporter deck, tumbling until you slammed into a wall. Shayera interrupted your battle with Superman. She sent you sailing into the wall. When you recovered, you fled, lured her out of the room and to the nearest escape pods. You told her what he did, then grabbed her, tore her from her mace, and threw her into an escape pod. You tossed her mace in and deployed the pod before returning to where Superman was recovering from who knows how many of your punches with the kryptonite in the middle of your palm.

"When you arrived, he defended himself with his heat vision, burned a hole through your hand to destroy the kryptonite. You more or less ignored it after taking a moment to examine the damage. The Watchtower staff who helped Superman to his feet scrambled out of the way as you dropped out of the air, bowling him over.

"With him pinned from behind, you demanded to know why he killed me. You said that he had told _you_ about the pipe, demanded to know why he lied to your face. He managed to elbow you in the gut, trip you up, and pin you to the floor. He told you it was all for you, because he could no longer stand to just watch me hurt you over and over again. You pushed him away, kicked him in the face and then demanded to know if he thought killing me could ever make you happy. You didn't give him time to answer, instead beginning to pummel him, landing punch after punch as you told him you might have forgiven me in time.

"Finally, you pinned him to the floor with your left arm. You removed the lead from under your bracelet, threw it aside and went back to retrieve the second kryptonite shard. You asked him if I suffered when he murdered me. The last thing you told him was that he was going to find out what it would be like to be killed by someone you hold in high regard, then you thrust your fingers and the kryptonite wedged between them into his chest and waited until he was dead.

"The Watchtower's staff and a number of injured, regular Leaguers began to approach. One asked what would happen to the League. You told her there wasn't a League anymore. Then you left, took an elevator to the Javelin bay. The dream ended with you still in the elevator, holding the door open to the Javelin bay, curled up on the floor and crying. You were apologizing repeatedly. To me. You said you still loved me. And I could do nothing but watch."

Now I wait. Finally, Diana breaks the silence. "…Bruce…" she begins to say, her tone without any form of gaiety, her words mired in sadness, in shock, and in the pity I had fled from in the morning. Her attempt to speak goes nowhere.

After another silence, Alfred gives his attempt at a response. "And you were afraid this would come to pass, Master Bruce? That Master Kent would kill you for a perceived injustice against Miss Diana? That she would then kill Master Kent in retaliation? That the Justice League would be destroyed by the chain of conflict?"

"Yes and no," I answer almost immediately.

I'm about to explain when Diana finds her words. "Not _that_, but you were afraid that something similar would happen if we broke up on anything less than friendly terms. You wanted to keep me happy so Superman wouldn't see me in emotional turmoil. You were trying to keep the cycle from starting. You die, Kal dies, the Justice League ends."

I close my eyes. Diana has again proven herself as intelligent as I have always known, as intuitive as she proved herself by deducing my secret identity. "Yes," I answer.

She gives me some time to add more, but her patience wears thin. "Bruce, what is so hard about just telling me these things? Telling Alfred these things? You still haven't told me about your past romances. Thanks to that, I had a few awkward moments of misunderstanding when I talked with Zatanna about your investigations."

My expression conveys my apology, but I stay silent. "Just…think about it. Alright, Bruce?" I nod.

Alfred reenters the conversation. "Master Bruce, your timeline doesn't make any sense. How could they be the same sequence of events?"

I notice a small twitch of frustration run across Diana's left eyebrow as I turn to Alfred, answering his question immediately. "I don't think they are. There were little differences scattered between the three segments, but there were some glaring differences that make them separate. The first was, Diana, you in my bed at the start of the second dream, with so much of your clothing already in my bureaus."

"Well, my ceremonial outfits are not aboard the Watchtower. Mother returned them to Themyscira when she went back home to the island."

"Can you see yourself coming to the manor in the event of my death? Suppose you left the Watchtower entirely after leaving me behind."

She considers it for a few moments. "I suppose I might. I guess I can't rule it out."

"Alright. Where else might you have gone?"

"I might have left in my jet, just flown. I might have gone to the museum in Gotham where we met Circe. I might have gone to see Audrey. I can't say for sure, but before I threw my Paris dress into your face, I thought about going down to Earth to cool off. Those are some of the things I thought of doing."

"So it is possible." I shift my focus. "The other big difference is who Superman spoke to. In the second dream, it was Alfred. In the third, it was Diana."

"Bruce, what did you say it was like, your experience in the second and third dreams, when you were already dead?"

I let the memory run through my head briefly. "I had no corporeal form and no way to interact with the world around me. I couldn't move on my own and I was tethered to within about ten yards of you. I had awareness of my surroundings in all directions, but was typically focused in only one direction. I had sense of sight and sound, but no taste, touch, or smell."

Diana folds her arms across her stomach and sits back. She spends nearly a minute pondering before Alfred finally break the silence. "What are you thinking, Miss Diana?"

"The overall experience. It's very similar to my visions in Gorilla City. I had limited movement and couldn't hear, though, but aside from that, they're almost identical. Perhaps Apollo had a hand in your dreams. Then again, what other non-corporeal form could you have had?"

"An image of my body, potentially capable of possessing other living beings, à la Boston Brand. Still, it's a possibility. I hadn't considered Apollo or your Pantheon, but I certainly wouldn't put it past them." It still leaves the question: "But why bother? What could your gods possibly gain by meddling with both of us? And why show me three differing scenes? Why not just one, continuous event? They still could have split it over three nights if that was somehow necessary."

"If we owe your visions, Miss Diana, and your dreams, Master Bruce, to the Greek gods, then perhaps it is beyond our ability to discern meaning on our own," Alfred offers.

Diana and I both turn to him. I admit to myself that he might be right, but it doesn't make me like the idea of such an unanswerable riddle any more appealing. I count myself lucky that Nygma isn't aware of this situation.

"Perhaps a break for a spot of tea or coffee would help us think." I agree with a nod of my head, welcoming the opportunity to continue brainstorming with the two people I hold most dear. Alfred, meanwhile, turns to Diana. "If I remember correctly, Miss Diana, you very much favor iced mocha."

"Oh—yes, please! If it isn't too much trouble…"

"No, not at all, my dear." Alfred rises from his seat. "Then if the two of you will excuse me, I shall return shortly." Diana and I take our turns thanking Alfred before he smiles and turns to leave the room at a leisurely pace.

Diana and I sit in silence for a few short minutes. I am lost in my own thoughts, barely aware of what Diana is doing. "Bruce." I stop and look up. She is resting her chin in her hand, her elbow below, propping her head up from the surface of the dining table.

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking about a couple of things you mentioned from one of your dreams. They've been nagging at me ever since you said them."

"What?" My mind sets about, reflexively working to anticipate what I might have said that she is concerned about.

"Well, first off, do you really have a hidden store of kryptonite?"

There's no point in spending any time denying it. "Yes."

"Are you really _that_ afraid that Kal will turn on us? On you?"

"No, but it's happened before, with Darkseid's influence. Boston Brand was able to possess Superman with no effort, though his intentions weren't evil. Professor Ivo's android copied Superman's strengths and weaknesses perfectly before adapting to his weaknesses. There are numerous possibilities with the same contingency. I have to plan for as many as I can."

Diana takes a deep breath in relief. "I have to say I'm glad to hear you say that, Bruce. The idea that you don't trust Kal doesn't sit well with me. You do trust him, right?"

"At least as far as I can throw him," I joke, adding a well-humored smile.

"Please, Bruce. Throw Superman?"

"Ask him next time you get the chance." I leave the topic at that for now. "You said there were a _couple_ things bothering you about my dreams," I prompt.

She shakes her index finger at me once in confirmation. "Yes! You said I was in your bed at the start of your second dream. You also said that I had a lot of my clothes already in place around your room." I nod in understanding before she continues. "So, what color nightclothes was I wearing?"

I can't keep myself from giving a little start in surprise at her question. Her smile broadens into a knowing smirk. She drops her arm from below her chin and then floats out of her chair, over the table and towards me. "Come on, Bruce. It's not a difficult question. Red? Green? Blue?" She floats around to my left, settles into the chair beside me. "Cyan? Magenta? Yellow?" She leans over, lays her forearm across the top of my shoulder, then rests her chin on her arm and whispers into my ear, "Black?"

_'Is she trying to entice me?'_ I close my eyes, feeling myself compelled to answer. "No."

"No what, Bruce? I wasn't wearing black? Green? Magenta?"

"No, nothing. You were nude," I admit before she can drag it out any longer.

She takes a deep breath, pulling slowly back into her new seat. "I believe you. Everything you've said, I'll believe you." Her words are small, quiet, but leave no room for me to doubt them. Her voice comes back up. "Just remember that you owe me, Bruce."

"For believing everything I've said or the discussion of my past lovers?"

"No! Well, telling me about your past lovers, yes, but no. I meant for what you saw." I _really_ hope she won't go any further into this conversation with Alfred coming back at any minute. "But regardless, Bruce, I assume you've been trying to think about bigger pictures while analyzing your dreams." I nod and then turn towards Diana, glad for the change in topic. "Well, how about the small picture?

"I wanted to leave the League, so Apollo granted me a series of visions that kept me where I could do the most good. Is there something small that your dreams might be addressing? Something you wanted or needed at the time? You said it's been a week since the third dream, so maybe whatever it was that made the dreams necessary has passed."

I've certainly thought about such eventualities, but never truly considered them. The whys for such an explanation are much easier to think about than the reasoning of a pantheon of bickering gods. Diana's experience certainly established the possibility. I find myself thinking more seriously than I ever have about so simple an explanation.

I turn towards Diana suddenly and hook my left foot around the leg of her chair, pulling her and her chair closer. I draw her into a tight embrace, give her an appreciative 'thank you' before relaxing my hands, leaving them on her back. We sit smiling at one another for a few long breaths before Diana and I tip our heads to the side at nearly the same time.

My eyes close and I barely see Diana do the same through my narrowing vision. Our lips touch delicately almost half a breath later. I pull away just a bit, coaxing her to chase after me. She does and I immediately press my lips to hers, earning myself a moan of satisfaction in response.

I slowly, gently work my lips against Diana's, delighting in the feel of her touch. I let my hands wander down her back and to her sides, caressing her through her armor. At the same time, her hands find their way to my shoulders. Her hands' soft caresses calm and relax my muscles, but make me want to make our kiss more passionate, more intimate.

I pull my lips from Diana's for a moment. We share and gauge each other's excitement with our gaze, then tip our heads the other way and come back for another kiss. As the movements of our heads become more pronounced, the boldness of our lips grows steadily more intense. I drop my right hand from Diana's far side, letting it settle atop the warmth at the middle of her bare thigh. I glide my palm and fingers across her skin, quickly sliding it towards her knee, then slowly back up to where it started.

Diana's hands leave my shoulders, moving to my chest. With roaming hands, she hurriedly unbuttons my suit jacket, then calms to slowly slip her fingers beneath the jacket and spread it open with her wrists. At the same time, I lift my left hand along her spine until the whole of my hand is above the top edge of her armor and entangled in the ends of her gorgeous, satiny sable.

Our kiss continues apace until I capture her lower lip between mine and give it a gentle pull. Diana gives another satisfied moan before matching me beautifully. I revel in her passion, in the knowledge that this woman, with all her cultural past and all of my issues, has _chosen_ to love me, _chosen_ not to let me go. She has persisted beyond what any woman should have let herself endure, all for the sake of pursuing me. It's always been a humbling thought, one I'd be more aware of if not for our kiss.

More than whatever Diana has in mind, I owe her. I want, I need to show her my thanks, however passionately I can. I edge my right hand closer to Diana's hip on each upward caress, then quickly retreat towards her knee, gradually testing her limits and mine. Her hands move again, leaving my chest as she moves them fingers-first onto my neck and then up to my face. She cups the whole of my jaw between her hands, then gives my upper lip a more urgent tug.

I open my jaw a little and our kiss along with it. Each refreshed kiss starts with open lips, growing smaller as our jaws close. We take turns capturing each other's lips before starting again. We hold the rhythm for a while, until I change the motion of my right hand, reaching a little farther to move my caresses from the top of Diana's thigh to the outside. Diana gives a moan of pleasure while she works her hands back for a moment, weaving her fingers into my hair before returning her hands to my jaw.

I respond with my tongue, throwing its tip into the middle of our open-mouthed kisses and letting her unsuspecting lips close around it. She immediately gives a quick moan of surprise as she pulls away. I pull my tongue back just slowly enough for her to see its tip disappear behind my lips as I answer her gaze with a smile. She only spends a second more watching in silence, then takes a sharp inhale and leans back in, picking up our kissing right where we left off.

She lets a single kiss go by before she places her tongue in my lips' path. She gives a long moan of pleasure when our lips close together around her. I give a hum back in a mix of amusement and delight. We take a few turns each, sharing our tongues and savoring in the flavor of one another's lips and tongue.

Finally, when the lightness in my mind is making it difficult to think, I pull back from Diana's lips. I look back to her with my happiness and pleasure displayed clearly in my eyes and across the rest of my expression. "I love you, Diana," I tell her after I see my satisfactions reflected if not amplified by her royal visage.

Her smile broadens and she seems to relax further. "I love you, too, Bruce." She is about to say more, but straightens abruptly, looking past me. "Alfred!"

Diana's hands fall from me and she leans away. I pull my left hand from her back and then pull my right from her thigh, surprised that I had let it come to a stop so daringly close to her rear. Luckily, Diana offers no protests, though neither about its placement nor its removal.

"Don't mind me. I will have no trouble keeping our drinks warm if you'd prefer." I turn to Alfred as he speaks.

Diana answers for us. "No, Alfred. Please, come in. I'm sorry. We're sorry."

"Oh, please, Miss Diana, there's no reason for either of you to be sorry. It warms this old heart of mine to see that you care so deeply for one another. I only pray that your romance will never falter or fade, but I trust that it will not."

I can't help but give a small nod in agreement. Alfred approaches at the same time, setting a coffee down at my place at the table. He reaches for the cup of Diana's iced mocha when she stops him. "Hold on a moment, Alfred."

He nods as she lifts herself out of the seat and into the air. She straightens the chair before floating back to her original seat. Once she is for the most part behind the table, Alfred reaches out with her cup, setting it at her place setting before putting his tea down at the head of the table.

Diana takes a sip of her iced mocha before giving her warm thanks, then fills Alfred in on the short discussion we had before so thoroughly distracting ourselves. _'Filling an immediate need… If Diana is right and Apollo is responsible, he certainly seemed to want to tell me a single story. Perhaps the differences were simply red herrings that captured too much of my attention—distractions...a way to muddle a singular message with insignificant branches.'_

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**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thanks for reading._  
_

I apologize for the delays posting. I got myself onto a roll writing. It ended up longer than I originally expected. I considered splitting it, but decided against it. I decided to keep writing (and editing) until I finished. I'm very happy to have come this far and I'm still thinking about what to do next. Anyhow, tune back in for an epilogue, coming soon. Oh, and I know that K is Key.


	10. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** Ridiculously delayed and short, I know, but the edits are done. Anchor, Respond, and Branches are now finally back up to their originally advertised word counts. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.

* * *

For a few minutes longer, I look down at the mortal below. "To think so grim, so dark a man would act so…frivolously."

"It's not frivolous," my visitor tells me. "He is acting out of love."

"If you say. I grant that I am no expert. Such matters are your realm."

"Even so, you have done much to help me over these past few weeks. I appreciate your assistance."

I turn from the mortal world, facing my visitor as she steps closer. "I never doubted that you do. Regardless, I used the opportunities to answer my own questions, so you needn't thank me. Still, I must admit I am surprised you waited so long before again seeking my help."

"Even my patience is not eternal. Certainly, eternity will not wait for him."

My visitor steps past me, looking down at the world of mortals. I follow her gaze back to the mortal man below. He is in a store, an older man following him as he looks into a series of displays.

"You tested her resolve. She broke as you had hoped and it presented us with the perfect opportunity to align our interests. I used the opportunity to find where her heart would lay if she were to open it and you found who could bring her back from the brink. I suspected a single person would provide the answer to both questions, but who would have guessed our first choice would be correct?"

I nod in agreement. My visitor steps back and turns away. "Are you satisfied with the result?" she asks.

I turn to respond. I can't help but look back to the mortals' realm before the words escape my lips, "Certainly, yes."

"I am glad to hear." My visitor takes a few steps away. "I must take my leave now. I will return should I again need your services."

I nod in response, then turn back to the mortal world. A soft, white glow fills the air and my visitor is gone. I have time for a quick breath before I feel a wave of heat from behind and my surroundings are painted a fiery red. I'm about to have another visitor.

I have barely a moment before the fires will fade and my new guest will arrive. "And no," I say, finishing my previous answer as I turn.

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**Author's Note:** Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading.

Had to break the mold for this one. I've had Bruce's last line in mind from the start of writing Branches (though it did change a little; first from a spoken line to a thought and then the situation around it), but this quickly became how I wanted to close out Branches' story. I knew I couldn't have the scene be from either Bruce's perspective or Diana's and I certainly didn't want to break the flow of a chapter, so this was moved to its own epilogue.

Now, I have been a _little_ obsessive about word counts, so I've been hesitant to include these in the chapters, but I have two anonymous reviewers who I want to thank, Readsalot101 and butterflyV. I hope you're both still reading. Readsalot101, I'm happy to see you enjoyed that view of Superman. The idea for Branches started with that sequence as a big what if. butterflyV, I hope you've enjoyed Bruce's progress from the start to end of Branches. I'd like to think he's better about being in a relationship now than he was at the outset. And don't worry, I don't intend to leave Lois and Clark's relationship as it is. I know there are at least a few others who'll be happy to hear I haven't forgotten them.

With each chapter, I've found myself to especially enjoy the way reviews start this sort of open dialogue between reader and author. I look forward to continuing the discussions in the future, both on what I've already posted and whatever comes next. Thinking of discussions, I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on this sort of dual first-person perspective. These past three fanfics have been something of a writing experiment in that regard. Moving forward, I do plan to keep anything in this storyline in first-person (and with the same naming convention), but I am going to break into the third-person eventually.

Thank you for reading and look forward to more!


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